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The Story of Ab 

A Tale 
Of The Time of The Cave Men 



f 

Stanley Waterloo 

Author of 
A M.KN AND A WOMAN, AN ODD SITUATION, ETC 




1897 



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NOV 1 1897 



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COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY WAY & UILLIAMS. 
THE COVER DES1GN^3 BYMR. WILL BRADLEY. 



INTRODUCTION. 

This is the story of Ab, a man of the Age 
of Stone, who lived so long ago that we can- 
not closely fix the date, and who loved and 
fought well. 

In his work the author has been cordially 
assisted by some of the ablest searchers of 
two continents into the life history of prehis- 
toric times. With characteristic helpfulness 
and interest, these already burdened students 
have aided and encouraged him, and to them 
he desires to express his sense of profound 
obligation and his earnest thanks. 

Once only does the writer depart from 
accepted theories of scientific research. After 
an at least long-continued study of existing 
evidence and information relating to the 
Stone Ages, the conviction grew upon him 
that the mysterious gap supposed by scientific 



INTRODUCTION 

teachers to divide Paleolithic from Neolithic 
man never really existed. No convulsion of 
nature, no new race of human beings is 
needed to explain the difference between the 
relics of Paleolithic and Neolithic strugglers. 
Growth, experiment, adaptation, discovery, 
inevitable in man, sufficiently account for all 
the relatively swift changes from one form of 
primitive life to another more advanced, from 
the time of chipped to that of polished imple- 
ments. Man has been, from the beginning, 
under the never resting, never hastening, 
forces of evolution. The earth from which 
he sprang holds the record of his transforma- 
tions in her peat-beds, her buried caverns 
and her rocky fastnesses. The eternal laws 
change man, but they themselves do not 
change. 

Ab and Lightfoot and others of the cave 
people whose story is told in the tale which 
follows the author cannot disown. He has 
shown them as they were. Hungry and cold, 
they slew the fierce beasts which were scarcely 
more savage than they, and were fed and 
clothed by their flesh and fur. In the caves 
of the earth the cave men and their families 
were safely sheltered. Theirs were the ele- 



INTRODUCTION 

mental wants and passions. They were 
swayed by love, in some form at least, by 
jealousy, fear, revenge, and by the memory 
of benefits and wrongs. They cherished their 
young; they fought desperately with the beasts 
of their time, and with each other, and, when 
their brief, turbulent lives were ended, they 
passed into silence, but not into oblivion. 
The old Earth carefully preserved their story, 
so that we, their children, may read it now. 

S. W. 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER. 

I. THE BABE IN THE WOODS. 

II. MAN AND HYENA. 

UI. A FAMILY DINNER. 

IV. AB AND OAK. 

V. A GREAT ENTERPRISE. 

VI. A DANGEROUS VISITOR. 

VII. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 

VIII. SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS. 

IX. DOMESTIC MATTERS. 

X. OLD MOK, THE MENTOR. 

XI. DOINGS AT HOME. 

XII. OLD MOK's TALES. 

XIII. AB's GREAT DISCOVERY. " 

XIV. A LESSON IN SWIMMING. 
XV. A MAMMOTH AT BAY. 

XVI. THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH. 

XVII. THE COMRADES. 

XVIII. LOVE AND DEATH. 

XIX. A RACE WITH DREAD, 

XX. THE FIRE COUNTRY. - 

XXI, THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT. - 

XXII. THE HONEYMOON. 

XXIII. MORE OF THE HONEYMOON. 

XXIV. THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN. 
XXV. A GREAT STEP FORWARD. 

XXVI. FACING THE RAIDER. 

XXVII. LITTLE MOK. 

XXVIII. THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS. 

XXIX. OLD hilltop's LAST STRUGGLE. 

XXX. OUR VERY GREAT GRANDFATHER. 



PAGE 

X 

II 

23 

28 
40 

53 
61 

71 
83 
92 
104 
117 
127 
140 

153 
164 
177 
190 
205 
218 
229 
242 

255 
271 
282 
292 
307 
317 
332 
345 



THE STORY OF AB. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE BABE IN THE WOODS. 

Drifted beech leaves had made a soft, clean 
bed in a little hollow in a wood. The wood 
was beside a river, the trend of which was to- 
ward the east. There was an almost precipi- 
tous slope, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet 
from the wood, downward to the river. The 
wood itself, a sort of peninsula, was small in 
extent and partly isolated from the greater forest 
back of it by a slight clearing. Just below the 
wood, or, in fact, almost in it and near the crest 
of the rugged bank, the mouth of a small cave 
was visible. It was so blocked with stones as 
to leave barely room for the entrance of a hu- 
man being. The little couch of beech leaves 
already referred to was not many yards from 
the cave. 

On the leafy bed rolled about and kicked up 
his short legs in glee a little brown babe. It 



2 THE STORY OF AB 

was evident that he could not walk yet and 
his lack of length and width and thickness in- 
dicated what might be a babe not more than a 
year of age, but, despite his apparent youth, 
this man-child seemed content thus left alone, 
while his grip on the twigs which had fallen 
into his bed was strong, as he was strong, and 
he was breaking them delightedly. Not only 
was the hair upon his head at least twice as 
long as that of the average year-old child of 
to-day, but there were downy indications upon 
his arms and legs, and his general aspect was 
a swart and rugged one. He was about as far 
from a weakly child in appearance as could be 
well imagined and he was about as jolly a 
looking baby, too, as one could wish to see. 
He was laughing and cooing as he kicked about 
among the beech leaves and looked upward at 
the blue sky. His dress has not yet been al- 
luded to and an apology for the negligence 
may be found in the fact that he had no dress. 
He wore nothing. He was a baby of the time 
of the cave men; of the closing period of the 
age of chipped stone instruments; the epoch 
of mild climate; the ending of one great ani-' 
mal group and the beginning of another; the 
time when the mammoth, the rhinoceros, the 



THE BABE IN THE WOODS 3 

great cave tiger and cave bear, the huge elk, 
reindeer and aurochs and urus and hosts of Httle 
horses, fed or gamboled in the same forests 
and plains, with much discretion as to relative 
distances from each other. 

It was some time ago, no matter how many 
thousands of years, when the childr— they called 
him Ab — lay there, naked, upon his bed o£ 
beech leaves. It may be said, too, that there j 
existed for him every chance for a lively and / 
interesting existence. There was prospect 
that he would be engaged in running away 
from something or running after something 
during most of his life. Times were not dull 
for humanity in the age of stone. The chil- 
dren had no lack of things to interest, if not 
always to amuse, them, and neither had the 
men and women. And this is the truthful 
story of the boy Ab and his playmates and of 
what happened when he grew to be a man. 

It is well to speak here of the river. The 
stream has been alrea*dy mentioned as flowing 
to the eastward. It did not flow in that di- 
rection regularly; its course was twisted and 
diverted, and there were bays and inlets and 
rapids between precipices, and islands and 
wooded peninsulas, and then the river merged 



4 THE STORY OF AB 

into a lake of miles in extent, the waters con- 
verging into the river again. So it was that 
the banks in one place might form a height 
and in another merge evenly into a densely 
wooded forest or a wide plain. It was so, too, 
that these conditions might exist opposite each 
other. Thus the woodland might face the 
plain, or the precipice some vast extending 
marsh. 

To speak further of this river it may be men- 
tioned, incidentally, that to-day its upper 
reaches still exist and that the relatively small 
stream remaining is called the Thames. Be- 
side and across it lies the greatest city in the 
world and its mouth is upon what is called the 
English Channel. At the time when the baby, 
Ab, slept that afternoon in his nest in the 
beech leaves this river was not called the 
Thames, it was only called the Running Water, 
to distinguish it from the waters of the coast. 
It did not empty into the British Channel, for 
the simple and sufficient reason that there was 
no such channel at the time. Where now 
exists that famous passage which makes islands 
of Great Britain, where, tossed upon the 
choppy waves, the travelers of the world are 
seasick, where Drake and Howard chased the 



THE BABE IN THE WOODS 5 

Great Armada to the Northern seas and where, 
to-day, the ships of the nations are steered 
toward a social and commercial center, was 
then good, solid earth crowned with great for- 
ests, and the present little tail end of a river 
was part of a great afBuent of the Rhine, the 
German river famous still, but then with a 
a size and sweep worth talking of. Then the 
Thames and the Elbe and Weser, into which 
tumbled a thousand smaller streams, all went 
to feed what is now the Rhine, and that then 
tremendous river held its course through dense 
forests and deep gorges until it reached broad 
plains, where the North Sea is to-day, and 
blended finally with the Northern Ocean. 

The trees which stood upon the bank of 
the great river, or which could be seen in the 
far distance beyond the marsh or plain, were 
not all the same as how exist. There was 
still a distinctive presence of the towering 
conifers, something such as are represented in 
the redwood forests of California to-day, or, 
in other forms, in some Australian woods. 
There was a suggestion of the fernlike but 
gigantic age of growth of the distant past, the 
past when the earth's surface was yet warm 
and its air misty, and there was an exuberance 



o THE STORY OF AB 

of all plant and forest growth, something com- 
pared with which the growth in the same lati- 
tude, just now, would make, it may be, but a 
stunted showing. It is wonderful, though, the 
close resemblance between most of the trees of 
the cave man's age, so many tens of thousands 
of years ago, and the trees most common to the 
temperate zone to-day. The peat bogs and 
the caverns and the strata of deposits in a 
host of places tell truthfully what trees grew 
in this distant time. Already the oak and 
beech and walnut and butternut and hazel 
reared their graceful forms aloft, and the 
ground beneath their spreading branches was 
strewn with the store of nuts which gave a 
portion of food for many of the beasts and for 
man as well. The ash and the yew were 
there, tough and springy of fiber and destined 
in the far future to become famous in song 
and story, because they would furnish the 
wood from which was made the weapon of 
the bowman. The maple was there with all 
its symmetry. There was the elm, the dog- 
ged and beautiful tree-thing of to-day, which 
so clings to life and flourishes in the midst of 
unwholesome city surroundings and makes the 
human hive so much the better. There were 



THE BABE IN THE WOODS 7 

the pines, the sycamore, the foxwood and 
dogwood, and lime and laurel and poplar and 
elder and willow, and the cherry and crab ap- 
ple and others of the fruit-bearing kind, since 
so developed that they are great factors in 
man's subsistence now. It was a time of 
plenty which was riotous. There remained, 
too, a vestige of the animal as well as of the 
vegetable life of the remoter ages. There 
were strange and dangerous creatures which 
came sometimes up the river from its inlet 
into the ocean. Such events had been mat- 
ters of interest, not to say of anxiety, to Ab's 
ancestors. 

The baby lying there among the beech 
leaves tired, finally, of its cooing and twig- 
snapping and slept the sleep of dreamless 
early childhood. He slept happily and noise- 
lessly, but when he at last awoke his de- 
meanor showed a change. He had nothing 
to distract him, unless it might be the break- 
ing of twigs again. He had no toys, and, 
being hungry, he began to yell. So far as 
can be learned from early data, babies, when 
hungry, have always yelled. And, of old, as 
to-day, when a baby yelled, the woman who 
had borne it was likely to appear at once 



o THE STORY OF AB 

upon the scene. Ab's mother came running 
lightly from the river bank toward where the 
youngster lay. She was worthy of attention 
as she ran, and this is but a bungling attempt 
at a description of her and of her dress. 

It should be explained here, with much 
care and caution, that the mother of Ab moved 
in the best and most exclusive circles of the 
time. She belonged to the aristocracy and, 
it may be added, regarding this line lady per- 
sonally, that she had the weakness of paying 
much attention to her dress. She was what 
might properly be called a leader of society, 
though society was at the time somewhat at- 
tenuated, families living, generally, some miles 
apart, and various obstacles, chiefly in the 
form of large, man-eating animals, compli- 
cating the matter of paying calls. As for the 
calls themselves, they were nearly as often 
aggressive as social, and there is a certain de- 
gree of difference between the vicious use of a 
flint ax and the leaving of a card with a 
bending lackey. But all this doesn't matter. 
The mother of Ab belonged to the very cream 
of the cream, and was dressed accordingly. 
Her garb was elegant but simple; it had, 
first, the one great merit, that it could easily 



THE BABE IN THE WOODS 9 

be put on or taken off. It was sustained with 
but a single knot, a bow-knot — they had 
learned to make a bow-knot and other knots 
in the stone age, for, because of the manual 
requirements for living, they were cleverer 
fumblers with their fingers than we are now — 
and the lady here described had tied her knot 
in a manner not to be excelled by any other 
woman in all the fiercely beast-ranged coun- 
tryside. 

The gown itself was of a quality to please 
the eye of the most carping. It was made 
from the skins of wolverines, and was drawn 
in loosely about the waist by a tied band, but 
was really sustained by a strip of the skin 
which encircled the left shoulder and back 
and breast. This left the right arm free from 
all encumbrance, a matter of some impor- 
tance, for to be right-handed was a quality of 
the cave man as of the man to-day. We 
should have a grudge against them for this 
carelessness, and should, may be, form an 
ambidextrous league, improving upon the past 
and teaching and forcing young children to 
use each hand alike. 

The garment of wolverine skins, sewed 
neatly together with thread of sinews, was all 



lO THE STORY OF AB 

the young mother wore. Thus hanging from 
the shoulder and fully encircling her, it reached 
from the waist to about half way down between 
the hips and the knees. It was as delightful a 
gown as ever was contrived by ambitious 
modiste or mincing male designer in these 
modern times. It fitted with a free and easy 
looseness and its colors were such as blended 
smoothly and kindly with the complexion of its 
wearer. The fur of the wolverine was a mixed 
black and white, but neither black nor white 
is the word to use. The black was not black; 
it was only a swart sort of color, and the white 
was not white; it was but a dingy, lighter con- 
trast to the darker surface beside it. Yet the 
combination was rather good. There was 
enough of difference to catch the eye and not 
enough of glaringness to offend it. The mother 
of Ab would be counted by a wise observer as 
the possessor of good taste. Still, dress is a 
small matter. There is something to say 
about the cave mother aside from the mere 
description of her gown. 



CHAPTER 11. 

MAN AND HYENA. 

It is but an act of simple gallantry and 
justice to assert that the cave woman had 
a certain unhampered swing of movement 
which the modern woman often lacks. With- 
out any reflection upon the blessed woman 
of to-day, it must be said truthfully that she 
can neither leap a creek nor surmount some 
such obstacle as a monster tree trunk with a 
close approach to the ease and grace of this 
mother who came bounding through the forest. 
There was nothing unknowing or hesitant about 
her movements. She ran swiftly and leaped 
lightly when occasion 'came. She was lithe as 
the panther and as careless of where her brown 
feet touched the ground. 

The woman had physical charms. She was 
of about the average size of womanhood as we 
see it embodied now, but her waist was not 
compressed at an unseemly angle, and much 
resembled in its contour that of the Venus de 
Medici which has become such a stock, ex- 

2 11 



12 THE STORY OF AB 

ample of the healthfully symmetrical. Her 
hair was brown and long. It was innocent of 
knot or coil or braid, and was transfixed by 
no abatis of dangerous pins. It was not 
parted but was thrown straight backward over 
the head and hung down fairly and far between 
brown shoulders. It was a fine head of hair; 
there could be no question about that. It had 
gloss and color. Captious critics, reasoning 
from the standpoint of another age, might 
think it needed combing, .but that is only a 
matter of opinion. It was tangled together 
in a compact and fluffy mass, and so did not 
wander into the woman's eyes, which was a 
good thing and a great convenience, for bright 
eyes and unobstructed vision were required in 
those lively days. 

The face of this lady showed, at a glance, 
that no cosmetic had ever been relied upon to 
give it an artificial charm. As a matter of fact 
it would have been difiicult to use cosmetics 
upon that face in the modern way, for there 
was a suggestion of something more than down 
upon the countenance, and there were certain 
irregularities of facial outline so prominent that 
such details as the little matter of complexion 
must be trifling. The eyes were deep set and 



MAN AND HYENA 13 

small, the nose was short and thick and pos- 
sessed a certain vagueness of outline not easy 
of description. The upper lip was excessively 
long and the under lip protruding. The chin 
was well defined and firm. The mouth was 
rather wide, and the teeth were strong and 
even, and as white as any ivory ever seen. 
Such was the face, and there may be added 
some details of interest about the figure. The 
arms of this fascinating woman were perfectly 
proportioned. They were adapted to the times 
and were very beautiful. Down each of them 
from shoulder to elbow ran a strip of short 
dark hair. From either hand ran upward to 
the elbow another strip of hair, and the two, 
meeting at the elbow, formed a delightful little 
tuft reminding one of what is known as a 
*' widow's peak," or that little point which 
grows down so charmingly on an occasional 
woman's forehead. Her biceps were tre- 
mendous, as must necessarily be the case 
with a lady accustomed to swing from limb to 
limb along the treetops. Her thumb was 
nearly as long as her fingers, and the palms of 
her hands were hard. Her legs were like her 
arms in their degree of muscular development 
and hairy adornment. She had beautiful feet. 



14 THE STORY OF AB 

It is to be admitted that her heels projected a 
trifle more than is counted the ideal thing at 
the present day, and that her big toe and all 
the other toes were very much in evidence, but 
there is not one woman in ten thousand now who 
could as handily pick up objects with her 
toes as could the mother of the baby Ab. She 
was as brown as a nut, with the tan of a half 
tropical summer, and as healthy a creature, 
from tawny head to backward sloping heel, as 
ever trod a path in the world's history. This 
was the quality of the lady who came so 
swiftly to learn the nature of her offspring's 
trouble. Ladies of that day attended, as a 
rule, to the wants of their own children. A 
wet nurse was a thing unknown and a dry one 
as unthought of. This was good for the 
children. 

The woman made a dive into the little hol- 
low and picked the babe from its nest of leaves 
and tossed him up lightly, and at once his 
crying ceased, and his little brown arms went 
around her neck, and he cooed and prattled 
in very much the same fashion as does a babe 
of the present time. He was content, all in a 
moment, yet some noise must have aroused 
him, for, as it chanced, there was great need 



MAN AND HYENA 1 5 

that this particular babe at this particular 
moment should have awakened and cried aloud 
for his mother. This was made evident im- 
mediately. As the woman tossed him aloft in 
her arms and cuddled him again there came a 
sound to her ears which made her leap like 
some wilder creature of the forest up to a little 
vantage ground. She turned her head, and 
then — you should have seen the woman! 

Very nearly above them swung down one of 
the branches of a great beech tree. The 
mother threw the child into the hollow of her 
left arm, and leaped upward a yard to catch 
the branch with her right hand. So she hung 
dangling. Then, instantly, holding him firmly 
by one arm in her left hand, she lowered the 
child between her legs and clasped them about 
him closely. And then, had it been your for- 
tune to be born in those times, you might have 
seen good climbing. With both her strong 
arms free, this vigorous matron ran up the 
stout beech limb which depended downward 
from the great bole of the tree until she was 
twenty feet above the ground, and then, lifting 
herself into a comfortable place, in a moment 
was sitting there at ease, her legs and one arm 
coiled about the big branch and a smaller up- 



1 6 THE STORY OF AB 

standing one, while the other arm held the 
brown babe close to her bosom. 

This charming lady of the period had reached 
her perch in the beech tree top none too soon. 
Even as she swung herself into place upon the 
huge bough, there came rushing across the 
space beneath, snarling, smelling and seeking, 
a brute as foul and dangerous as could be im- 
agined for mother and son upon the ground. 
It was of a dirty dun color, mottled and striped 
with a lighter but still dingy hue. It had a 
black, hoggish nose, but there were fangs in 
its great jaws. It resembled a huge wolf, save 
as to its massiveness and club countenance. 
It was one of the monster hyenas of the time, 
a beast which must have been as dangerous to 
the men then living as any animal except the 
cave tiger and the cave bear. Its degenerate 
posterity, as they shuffle uneasily back and 
forth when caged to-day, are perhaps not less 
foul of aspect, but are relatively pygmies. 
Doubtless the brute had scented the sleeping 
babe, and, snarling aloud in its search, had 
waked it, inducing the cry which proved the 
child's salvation. 

The beast scented im.mediately the prey 
above him and leaped upward ferociously and 



MAN AND HYENA I? 

vainly. Was the woman thus beset thus hold- 
ing herself aloft and with her child upon one 
arm in a state of sickening anxiety? Hardly! 
She but encircled the supporting branch the 
closer, and laughed aloud. She even poked 
one bare foot down at the leaping beast, and 
waved her leg in provocation. At the same 
time there was no doubt that she was beset. 
Furthermore she was hungry, and so she raised 
her voice, and sent out through the forest a 
strange call, a quavering minor wail, but some- 
thing to be heard at a great distance. There was 
no delay in the response, for delays were dan- 
gerous when cave men lived. The call was 
answered instantly and the answering cry was 
repeated as she called again, the sound of the 
reply approaching near and nearer all the 
time. All at once the manner of her calling 
changed; it was an appeal no longer; it was a 
conversation, an odd, clucking, penetrating 
speech in the shortest of sentences. She was 
telling of the situation. There was prompt 
reply; the voice seemed suddenly higher in 
the air and then came, swinging easily from 
branch to branch along the treetops, the father 
of Ab, a person who felt a natural and agress- 
ive interest in what was going on. 

2 



10 THE STORY OF AB 

To describe the cave man it is, it may be, 
best of all to say that he was the woman over 
again, only stronger, longer limbed and deeper 
chested, firmer of jaw and more grim of coun- 
tenance. He was dressed almost as she was. 
From his broad shoulder hung a cloak of the 
skin of some wild beast but the cord which 
tied it was a stout one, and in the belt thus 
formed was stuck a weapon of such quality as 
men have rarely carried since. It was a stone 
ax; an ax heavier than any battle-ax of me- 
diaeval times, its haft a scant three feet in 
length, inclosing the ax through a split in the 
tough wood, all being held in place by a taut 
and hardened mass of knotted sinews. It was 
a fearful weapon, but one only to be wielded 
by such a man as this, one with arms almost 
as mighty as those of the gorilla. 

The man sat himself upon the limb beside 
his wife and child. The two talked together 
in their clucking language for a moment or 
two, but few words were wasted. Words had 
not their present abundance in those days; 
action was everything. The man was hungry, 
too, and wanted to get home as soon as possi- 
ble. He had secured food, which was await- 
ing them, and this slight, annoying episode of 



MAN AND HYENA 1 9 

the day must be ended promptly. He clam- 
bered easily up the tree and wrenched off a 
deadened limb at least two yards in length, 
then tumbling back again and passing his wife 
and child along the main branch, he swung 
down to where the leaping beast could almost 
reach him. The heavy club he carried gave 
him an advantage. With a whistling sweep, 
as the hyena leaped upward in its ravenous 
folly, came this huge club crashing against 
the thick skull, a blow so fair and stark and 
strong that the stunned beast fell backward 
upon the ground, and then, down, lightly as 
any monkey, dropped the cave man. The 
huge stone ax went crashing into the brain of 
the quivering brute, and that was the end of 
the incident. Mother and child leaped down 
together, and the man and woman went chat- 
tering toward their cave. This was not a 
particularly eventful day with them; they were 
accustomed to such things. 

They went strolling off through the beech 
glades, the strong, hairy, heavy-jawed man, 
the muscular but more lightly built woman 
and the child, perched firmly and chattering 
blithely upon her shoulder as they walked, or, 
rather, half trotted along the river side and 



20 THE STORY OF AB 

toward the cave. They were Hght of foot and 
light of thought, but there was ever that al- 
most unconscious alertness appertaining to 
their time. Their flexible ears twitched, and 
turned, now forward now backward, to catch 
the slightest sound. Their nostrils were open 
for dangerous scents, or for the scent of that 
which might give them food, either animal or 
vegetable, and as for the eyes, well, they were 
the sharpest existent within the history of the 
human race. They were keen of vision at 
long distance and close at hand, and ever 
were they in motion, swiftly turned sidewise 
this way and that, peering far ahead or look- 
ing backward to note what enemies of the 
wood might be upon the trail. So, swiftly 
along the glade and ever alert, went the father 
and mother of Ab, carrying the strong child 
with them. 

There came no new alarm, and soon the cave 
was reached, though on the way there was a 
momentary deviation from the path, to gather 
up the nuts and berries the woman had found 
in the afternoon while the babe was lying sleep- 
ing. The fruitage was held in a great leaf, a 
pliant thing pulled together at the edges, tied 
stoutly with a strand of tough grass, and mak- 



MAN AND HYENA 21 

ing a handy pouch containing a quart or two 
of the food, which was the woman's contribu- 
tion to the evening meal. As for the father, 
he had more to offer, as was evident when the 
cave was reached. 

The man and woman crept through the 
narrow entrance and stood erect in a recess 
in the rocks twenty feet square, at least, and 
perhaps fifteen feet in height. Looking up- 
ward one could see a gleam of light from the 
outer world. The orifice through which the 
light came was the chimney, dug downward 
with much travail from the level of the land 
above. Directly underneath the opening was 
the fireplace, for men had learned thoroughly 
the use of fire, and had even some fancies as 
to getting rid of smoke. There were smold- 
ering embers upon the hearth, embers of the 
hardest of wood, the wood which would pre- 
serve a fire for the greatest length of time, for 
the cave man had neither flint and steel nor 
matches, and when a fire expired it was a mat- 
ter of some difficulty to secure a flame again. 
On this occasion there was no trouble. The 
embers were beaten up easily into glowing 
coals and twigs and dry dead limbs cast upon 
them made soon a roaring flame. As the 



22 THE STORY OF AB 

cave was lighted the proprietor pointed laugh- 
ingly to the abundance of meat he had secured. 
It was food of the finest sort and in such 
quantity that even this stalwart being's strength 
must have been exceptionally tested in bring- 
ing the burden to the cave. It was something 
in quality for an epicure of the day and there 
was enough of it to make the cave man's 
family easy for a week, at least. It was a 
hind quarter of a wild horse. 



CHAPTER III. 

A FAMILY DINNER. 

Despite the hyena and baby incident, the 
day had been a satisfactory one for this cave 
family. Of course, had the woman failed to 
reach just when she did the hollow in which 
her babe was left there would have come a 
tragedy in the extinction of a young and 
promising cave child, and the two would have 
been mourning, as even wild beasts mourn for 
their lost young. But there was little rever- 
sion to past possibilities in the minds of the 
cave people. The couple were not worrying 
over what might have been. The mother 
had found food of one- sort in abundance, and 
the father's fortune had been royal. He had 
tossed a rock from a precipice a hundred feet 
in height down into a passing herd of the little 
wild horses, and great luck had followed, for 
one of them had been killed, and so this was a 
holiday in the cave. The man and wife were 
at ease and had each an appetite. 

The nuts gathered by the woman were 

23 



24 THE STORY OF AB 

tossed in a heap among the ashes and Hve 
coals were raked upon them, and the popping 
which followed showed how well they were 
being roasted. A sturdy twig, two yards in 
length and sharpened at the end, was utilized 
by the man in cooking the strips of meat cut 
from the haunch of the wild horse and very 
savory were the odors that filled the cave. 
There was the faint perfume of the crackling 
nuts and there was the fragrant beneficence of 
the broiling meat. There are no definite rec- 
ords upon the subject; the chef of to-day 
can give you no information on the point, but 
there is reason to believe that a steak from 
the wild horse of the time was something ad- 
mirable. There is a sort of maxim current in 
this age, in civilized rural communities, to the 
effect that those quadrupeds are good to eat 
which ' * chew the cud or part the hoof. " The 
horse of to-day is a creature with but one toe 
to each leg — we all know that — but the horse 
of the- cave man's time had only lately parted 
with the split hoof, and so was fairly edible, 
even according to the modern standard. 

The father and mother of Ab were not more 
than two years past their honeymoon. They, 
in their way, were glad that their unian had 



A FAMILY DINNER 25 

been so blest and that a lusty man-child was 
rolling about and crowing and cooing upon 
the earthen floor of the cave. They lived 
from hand to mouth, and from day to day, and 
this day had been a good one. They were 
there together, man, woman and child. They 
had warmth and food. The entrance to the 
cave was barred so that no monster of the 
period might enter. They could eat and sleep 
with a certainty of the perfect digestion which 
followed such a life as theirs and with a cer- 
tainty of all peace for the moment. Even 
the child mumbled heartily, though not yet 
very strongly, at the delicious meat of the 
little horse, and, the meal ended, the couple 
lay down upon a mass of leaves which made 
their bed and coiled their arms about each 
other and the child lay snuggled and warm 
beside them. The aristocracy of the time 
had gone to sleep. 

There was silence in the cave, but, outside, 
the world was not so still. The night was not 
always one of silence in the cave man's time. 
The hours of darkness were those when the 
creature which walked upon two legs was no 
longer gliding through the forest with ready club 
or spear, and when those creatures which used 



26 THE STORY OF AB 

four legs instead of two, especially the defense- 
less, felt more at ease than in the daytime. 
The grass-eating animals emerged from the 
forest into the plateaus and upon the low plains 
along the river side and the flesh-eaters began 
again their hunting. It was a time of wild 
life, and of wild death, for out of the abun- 
dance much was taken; there were nightly 
tragedies, and the beasts of prey were as glut- 
ted as the urus or the elk which fed on the 
sweet grasses. It was but a matter of differ- 
ence in diet and in the manner of doing away 
with one life which must be sacrificed to sup- 
port another. There was liveliness at night 
with the queer thing, man, out of the way, 
and brutes and beasts of many sorts, taking 
their chances together, were happier with him 
absent. They could not understand him, and 
liked him not, though the great-clawed and 
sharp-toothed ones had a vast desire to eat 
him. He was a disturbing element in the 
community of the plain and forest. 

And, while all this play of life and death 
went on outside, the three people, the man, 
woman and child, in the cave slept as soundly 
as sleep the drunken or the just. They were 
full-fed and warm and safe. No beast of a 



A FAMILY DINNER 27 

size greater than that of a lank wolf or sinewy 
wildcat could enter the cave through the nar- 
row entrance between the heaped-up rocks, 
and of these, as of any other dangerous beast, 
there was none which would face what barred 
even the narrow passage, for it was fire. Just 
at the entrance the all-night fire of knots and 
hardest wood smoked, flamed and smoldered 
and flickered, and then flamed again, and held 
the passageway securely. No animal that 
ever lived, save man, has ever dared the touch 
of fire. It was the cave man's guardian. 



CHAPTER IV. 

AB AND OAK. 

Such were the father and mother of Ab, 
and such was the boy himself. His surround- 
ings have not been indicated with all the 
definiteness desirable, because of the lack of 
certain data, but, in a general way, the degree 
of his birth, the manner of his rearing and the 
natural aspects of his estate have been de- 
scribed. That the young man had a promis- 
ing future could not admit of doubt. He was 
the first-born of an important family of a 
great race and his inheritance had no bound- 
aries. Just where the possessions of the Ab 
family began or where they terminated no bird 
nor beast nor human being could tell. The 
estates of the family extended from the Medi- 
terranean to the Arctic Ocean and there were 
no dividing lines. Of course, something de- 
pended upon the existence or non-existence of 
a stronger cave family somewhere else, but 
that mattered not. And the babe grew into 
a sturdy youth, just as grow the boys of to- 

28 



AB AND OAK 29 

day, and had his friendships and adventures. 
He did not attend the pubhc schools — the 
school system was what might reasonably be 
termed inefficient in his time — nor did he at- 
tend a private school, for the private schools 
were weak, as well, but he did attend the 
great school of Nature from the moment he 
opened his eyes in the morning until he closed 
them at night. Of his schoolboy days and 
his friendships and his various affairs, this is 
the immediate story. 

The father and mother of Ab as has, it is 
hoped, been made apparent, were strong 
people, intelligent up to the grade of the 
time and worthy of regard in many ways. 
The two could fairly hold their own, not only 
against the wild beasts, but against any other 
cave pair, should the emergency arise. They 
had names, of course. The name of Ab's 
father was One-Ear, the sequence of an inci- 
dent occurring when he was very young, an 
accidental and too intimate acquaintance with 
a species of wildcat which infested the region 
and from which the babe had been rescued 
none too soon. The name of Ab's mother was 
Red-Spot, and she had been so called because 
of a not unsightly but conspicuous birthmark 



30 THE STORY OF AB 

appearing on her left shoulder. As to ances- 
try, Ab's father could distinctly remember his 
own grandfather as the old gentleman had 
appeared just previous to his consumption by 
a monstrous bear, and Red-Spot had some 
vague remembrance of her own grandmother. 
As for Ab's own name, it came from no per- 
sonal mark or peculiarity or as the result of 
any particular incident of his babyhood. It 
was merely a convenient adaptation by his 
parents of a childish expression of his own, a 
labial attempt to say something. His mother 
had mimicked his babyish prattlings, the father 
had laughed over the mimicry, and, almost 
unconsciously, they referred to their baby 
afterward as ''Ab," until it grew into a name 
which should be his for life. There was no 
formal early naming of a child in those days; 
the name eventually made itself, and that was 
all there was to it. There was, for instance, 
a child living not many miles away, destined 
to be a future playmate and ally of Ab, who, 
though of nearly the same age, had not yet 
been named at all. His title, when he finally 
attained it, was merely Oak. This was not 
because he was straight as an oak, or because 
he had an acorn birthmark, but because ad- 



AB AND OAK 31 

joining the cave where he was born stood a 
great oak with spreading Hmbs, from one of 
which was dangled a rude cradle, into which 
the babe was tied, and where he would be 
safe from all attacks during the absence of his 
parents on such occasions as they did not wish 
the burden of carrying him about. *' Rock-a- 
by-baby upon the tree-top " was often a reality 
in the time of the cave men. 

Ab was fortunate in being born at a reason- 
ably comfortable stage of the world's history. 
He had a decent prospect as to clothing and 
shelter, and there was abundance of food for 
those brave enough or ingenious enough to 
win it. The climate was not enervating. 
There were cold times for the people of the 
epoch and, in their seasons, harsh and chill- 
ing winds swept over bare and chilling gla- 
ciers, though a semi-tropical landscape was all 
about. So suddenly had come the change 
from frigid cold to moderate warmth, that 
the vast fields of ice once moving southward 
were not thawed to their utmost depths 
even when rank vegetation and a teeming life 
had sprung up in the now European area, and 
so it came that, in some places, cold, white 
monuments and glittering plateaus still showed 



32 THE STORY OF AB 

themselves amid the forest and fed the tum- 
bUng streams which made the rivers rushing to 
the ocean. There were days of bitter cold in 
winter and sultry heat in summer. 

It may fairly be borne in mind of this child 
Ab that he was somewhat different from the 
child of to-day, and nearer the quadruped in 
his manner of swift development. The puppy 
though delinquent in the matter of opening it's 
eyes, waddles clumsily upon its legs very early 
in its career. Ab, of course, had his eyes 
open from the beginning, and if the babe of 
to-day were to stand upright as soon as Ab 
did, his mother would be the proudest creature 
going and his father, at the club, would be a 
thing intolerable. It must be admitted, though, 
that neither One-Ear nor Red-Spot manifested 
an extraordinary degree of enthusiasm over 
the precociousness of their first-born. He was 
not, for the time, remarkable, and parents of 
the day were less prone than now to spoiling 
children. Ab's layette had been of beech 
leaves, his bed had been of beech leaves, 
and a beech twig, supple and stinging, had 
already been applied to him when he mis- 
behaved himself. As he grew older his ac- 
quaintance with it would be more familiar. 



AB AND OAK 33 

Strict disciplinarians in their way, though 
affectionate enough after their own fashion, 
were the parents of the time. 

The existence of this good family of the day 
continued without dire misadventure. Ab at 
nine years of age was a fine boy. There 
could be no question about that. He was as 
strong as a young gibbon, and, it must be ad- 
mitted, in certain characteristics would have 
conveyed to the learned observer of to-day a 
suggestion of that same animal. His eyes 
were bright and keen and his mouth and nose 
were worth looking at. His nose was broad, 
with nostrils aggressively prominent, and as 
for his mouth, it was what would be called 
to-day excessively generous in its proportions 
for a boy of his size. But it did not lack ex- 
pression. His lips could quiver at times, or 
become firmly set, and there was very much 
of what might, even then, be called "manli- 
ness" in the general bearing of the sturdy little 
cave child. He had never cried much when 
a babe — cave children were not much addicted 
to crying, save when very hungry — and he 
had grown to his present stature, which was 
not very great, with a healthfulness and gen- 
eral manner of buoyancy all the time. He 

3 



34 THE STORY OF AB 

was as rugged a child of his age as could be 
found between the shore that lay long leagues 
westward of what is now the western point of 
Ireland and anywhere into middle Europe. 
He had begun to have feelings and hopes and 
ambitions, too. He had found what his sur- 
roundings meant. He had at least done one 
thing well. He had made well-received ad- 
vances toward a friend; and a friend is a 
great thing for a boy, when he is another boy 
of about the same age. This friendship was 
not quite commonplace. 

Ab, who could climb like a young monkey, 
laid most casually the foundation for this 
companionship which was to affect his future 
life. He had scrambled, one day, up a tree 
standing near the cave, and, climbing out 
along a limb near its top, had found a com- 
fortable resting-place, and there upon the 
swaying bough was ''teetering" comfortably, 
when something in another tree, further up 
the river, caught his sharp eye. It was a 
dark mass, — it might have been anything 
caught in a treetop, — but the odd part of it 
was that it was "teetering" just as he was. 
Ab watched the object for a long time curi- 
ously, and finally decided that it must be an- 



AB AND OAK 35 

other boy, or perhaps a girl, who was swaying 
in the distant tree. There came to him a vig- 
orous thought. He resolved to become better 
acquainted; he resolved dimly, for this was 
the first time that any idea of further affilia- 
tion with anyone had come into his youthful 
mind. Of course, it must not be understood 
that he had been in absolute retirement 
throughout his young but not uneventful life. 
Other cave men and women, sometimes ac- 
companied by their children, had visited the 
cave of One-Ear and Red-Spot and Ab had 
become somewhat acquainted with other hu- 
man beings and with what were then the 
usages of the best hungry society. He had 
never, though, become really familiar with 
anyone save his father and mother and the 
children which his mother had borne after 
him, a boy and a girl. This particular after- 
noon a sudden boyish yearning came upon 
him. He wanted to know who the youth 
might be who was swinging in the distant tree. 
He was a resolute young cub, and to deter- 
mine was to act. 

It was rare, particularly in the wooded dis- 
tricts of the country of the cave men, for a 
boy of nine to go a mile from home alone. 



36 THE STORY OF AB 

There was danger lurking in every rod and 
rood, and, naturally, such a boy would not be 
versed in all woodcraft, nor have the neces- 
sary strength of arm for a long arboreal 
journey, swinging himself along beneath the 
intermingling branches of close-standing trees. 
So this departure was, for Ab, a venture some- 
thing out of the common. But he was strong 
for his age, and traversed rapidly a consider- 
able distance through the treetops in the di- 
rection of what he saw. Once or twice, though, 
there came exigencies of leaping and grasping 
aloft to which he felt himself unequal, and 
then, plucky boy as he was, he slid down the 
bole of the tree and, looking about cautiously, 
made a dash across some little glade and 
climbed again. He had traversed little more 
than half the distance toward the object he 
sought when his sharp ears caught the sound 
of rustling leaves ahead of him. He slipped 
behind the trunk of the tree into whose top he 
was clambering and then, reaching out his 
head, peered forward warily. As he thus 
ensconced himself, the sound he had heard 
ceased suddenly. It was odd. The boy was 
perplexed and somewhat anxious. He could 
but peer and peer and remain absolutely quiet. 



AB AND OAK 37 

At last his searching watchfulness was re- 
warded. He saw a brown protuberance on 
the side of a great tree, above where the 
branches began, not twoscore yards distant 
from him, and that brown protuberance moved 
slightly. It was evident that the protuber- 
ance was watching him as he was watching it. 
He realized what it meant. There was an- 
other boy there! He was not particularly 
afraid of another boy and at once came out of 
hiding. The other boy came calmly into view 
as well. They sat there, looking at each 
other, each at ease upon a great branch, each 
with an arm sustaining himself, each with his 
little brown legs dangling carelessly, and each 
gazing upon the other with bright eyes evinc- 
ing alike watchfulness and curiosity and some 
suspicion. So they sat, perched easily, these 
excellent young, monkeyish boys of the time, 
each waiting for the other to begin the con- 
versation, just as two boys wait when they 
thus meet to-day. Their talk would not per- 
haps be intelligible to any professor of lan- 
guages in all the present world, but it was a 
language, however limited its vocabulary, 
which sufficed for the needs of the men and 



38 THE STORY OF AB 

women and children of the cave time. It was 
Ab who first broke the silence: 

*'Who are you?" he said. 

"I am Oak," responded the other boy. 
*'Who are you.^^" 

*'Me.? Oh, I am Ab." 

'* Where do you come from.^" 

''From the cave by the beeches; and where 
do you come from?" 

'*I come from the cave where the river 
turns, and I am not afraid of you." 

'I am not afraid of you, either," said Ab. 

**Let us climb down and get upon that big 
rock and throw stones at things in the water," 
said Oak. 

''All right," said Ab. 

And the two slid, one after the other, down 
the great tree trunks and ran rapidly to the 
base of a huge rock overtopping the river, and 
with sides almost perpendicular, but with crev- 
ices and projections which enabled the expert 
youngsters to ascend it with ease. There was 
a little plateau upon its top a few yards in area 
and, once established there, the boys were 
safe from prowling beasts. And this was the 
manner of the first meeting of two who were 
destined to grow to manhood together, to be 



AB AND OAK 39 

good companions and have full young lives, 
howbeit somewhat exciting at times, and to 
affect each other for joy and sorrow, and good 
and bad, and all that makes the quality of 
being. 



CHAPTER V. 

A GREAT ENTERPRISE. 

What always happens when two boys not 
yet fairly in their 'teens meet, at first aggress- 
ively, and then, each gradually overcoming 
this apprehension of the other, decide upon a 
close acquaintance and long comradeship? 
Their talk is firmly optimistic and they con- 
stitute much of the world. As for Ab and 
Oak, when there had come to them an ease 
in conversation, there dawned gradually upon 
each the idea that, next to himself, the other 
was probably the most important personage 
in the world, fitting companion and confeder- 
ate of a boy who in an incredibly short space 
of time was going to become a man and do 
things on a tremendous scale. Seated upon 
the rock, a point of ease and vantage, they 
talked long of what two boys might do, and 
so earnest did they become in considering 
their possible great exploits that Ab demanded 
of Oak that he go with him to his home. 
This was a serious matter. It was a no slight 

40 



A GREAT ENTERPRISE 41 

thing for a boy of that day, allowed a play- 
ground within certain limits adjacent to his 
cave home, to venture far away; but this in 
Oak's life was a great occasion. It was the 
first time he had ever met and talked with a 
boy of his age, and he became suddenly reck- 
less, assenting promptly to Ab's proposal. 
They ran along the forest paths together to- 
ward Ab's cave, clucking in their queer lan- 
guage and utilizing in that short journey most 
of the brief vocabulary of the day in antici- 
patory account of what they were going to do. 
Ab's father and mother rather approved of 
Oak. They even went so far as to consent 
that Ab might pay a return visit upon the suc- 
ceeding day, though it was stipulated that the 
father — and this was a demand the mother 
made — should accompany the boy upon most 
of tha journey. One-Ear knew Oak's father 
very well. Oak's father, Stripe-Face, was a 
man of standing in the widely-scattered com- 
munity. Stripe-Face was so called because in 
a casual, and, on his part, altogether unin- 
vited encounter with a cave bear when he was 
a young man, a sweep of the claws of his ad- 
versary had plowed furrows down one cheek, 
leaving scars thereafter which were livid 



42 THE STORY OF AB 

streaks. One-Ear and Stripe-Face were good 
friends. Sometimes they hunted together; 
they had fought together, and it was nothing 
out of the way, and but natural, that Ab and 
Oak should become companions. So it came 
that One-Ear went across the forest with his 
boy the next day and visited the cave of 
Stripe-Face, and that the two young cubs went 
out together buoyant and in conquering mood, 
while the grown men planned something for 
their own advantage. Certainly the boys 
matched well. A finer pair of youngsters of 
eight or nine years of age could hardly be imag- 
ined than these two who sallied forth that after- 
noon. They send very fine boys nowadays 
to our great high schools in the United States, 
and to Rugby and Eaton and Harrow in Eng- 
land, but never went forth a finer pair to 
learn things. No smattering of letters or lore 
of any printed sort had these rugged youths, 
but their eyes were piercing as those of the 
eagle, the grip of their hands was strong, their 
pace was swift when they ran upon the ground 
and their course almost as rapid when they 
swung along the treetops. They were self-pos- 
sessed and ready and alert and prepared to pass 
an examination for admission to any university 



A GREAT ENTERPRISE 43 

of the time; that is, to any of Nature's univer- 
sities, where matriculation depended upon 
prompt conception of existing dangers and the 
ways of avoiding them, and of all adroitness 
in attainments which gave food and shelter 
and safety. Eh! but they were a gallant 
pair, these two young gentlemen who burst 
forth, owning the world entirely and feeling 
a serene confidence in their ability, united, to 
maintain their rights. And their ambitions 
soon took a definite turn. They decided that 
they must kill a horse! 

The wild horse of the time, already referred 
to as esteemed for his edible qualities, was, 
in the opinion of the cave people, but of 
moderate value otherwise. He was abun- 
dant, ranging in herds of hundreds along the 
pampas of the great Thames valley, and fur- 
nished forth abundant food for man as well 
as the wild beasts, when they could capture 
him. His skin, though, was not counted of 
much worth. Its short hair afforded little 
warmth in cloak or breech-clout, and the 
tanned pelt became hard and uncomfortable 
when it dried after a wetting. Still, there 
were various uses for this horse's hide. It 
made fine strings and thongs, and the beast's 



44 THE STORY OF AB 

flesh, as has been said, was a staple of the 
larder. The first great resolve of Ab and 
Oak, these two gallant soldiers of fortune, 
was that, alone and unaided, they would cir- 
cumvent and slay one of these wild horses, 
thereby astonishing their respective families, 
at the same time gaining the means for fill- 
ing the stomachs of those families to reple- 
tion, and altogether covering themselves with 
glory. 

Not in a day nor in a week were the plans 
of these youthful warriors and statesmen ma- 
tured. The wild horse had long since learned 
that the creature man was as dangerous to it 
as were any of the fierce four-footed animals 
which hunted it, and its scent was good and 
its pace was swift and it went in herds and 
avoided doubtful places. Not so easy a task 
as it might seem was that which Ab and Oak 
had resolved upon. There must be some elab- 
orate device to attain their end, but they were 
confident. They had noted often what older 
hunters did, and they felt themselves as good 
as anybody. They plotted long and earnestly 
and even made a mental distribution of their 
quarry, deciding what should be done with its 
skin and with its meat, far in advance of any 



A GREAT ENTERPRISE 45 

determination upon a plan for its capture and 
destruction. They were boys. 

There was no objection from the parents. 
They knew that the boys must learn to be- 
come hunters, and if the two were not now 
capable of taking care of themselves in the 
wood, then they were but disappointing off- 
spring. Consent secured, the boys acted en- 
tirely upon their own responsibility, and, to 
make their subsequent plans clearer, it may 
be well to explain a little more of the geog- 
raphy of the region. The cave of Ab was on 
the north side of the stream, where the rocky 
banks came close together with a little beach 
at either side, and the cave of Oak was per- 
haps a mile to the westward, on the same side 
of the stream and with very similar surround- 
ings. On the south side of the river, opposite 
the high banks between the two caves, the 
land was a prairie valley reaching far away. 
On the north side as well there was at one 
place a little valley, but it reached back only 
a few hundred yards from the river and was 
surrounded by the forest-crowned hills. The 
close standing oaks and beeches afforded, in 
emergency, a highway among their branches, 
and along this pathway the boys were compar- 



46 THE STORY OF AB 

atively safe. Either could climb a tree at any 
time, and of the animals that were dangerous in 
the treetops there were but few; in fact, there 
was only one of note, a tawny, cat-like crea- 
ture, not numerous, and resembling the lynx 
of the present day. Almost in the midst of 
the little plain or valley, on the north side of 
the river, rose a clump of trees, and in this the 
two boys saw means afforded them for a reali- 
zation of their hopes. The wild horses fed 
daily in the valley to the north, as in the 
greater one to the south of the river. But 
there also, in the high grass, as upon the south, 
sometimes lurked the great beasts of prey, and 
to be far away from a tree upon the plain was 
an unsafe thing for a cave man. From the 
forest edge to the clump of trees was not more 
than two minutes' rush for a vigorous boy and 
it was this fact which suggested to the youths 
their plan of capture of the horse. 

The homes of the cave men were located, 
when possible, where the refuge of safety over- 
hung closely the river's bank, and where the 
non-climbing animals must pass along beneath 
them, but, even at that period of few men and 
abundant animal life, there had developed an 
acuteness among the weaker beasts, and they 



A GREAT ENTERPRISE 47 

had learned to avoid certain paths that had 
proved fatal to their brethren. They were 
numerous in the plains and comparatively 
careless there, relying upon their speed to 
escape more dangerous wild beasts, but they 
passed rarely beneath the ledges, where a 
weighty rock dropped suddenly meant certain 
death. It was not a task entirely easy for the 
cave men to have meat with regularity, flush 
as was the life about them. New devices 
must be resorted to, and Ab and Oak were 
about to employ one not infrequently suc- 
cessful. 

The clam of the period, particularly the 
clam along this reach of the upper Thames, 
was a marvel in his make-up. He was as 
large as he was luscious, as abundant as he 
was both and was a great feature in the food 
supply of the time. Not merely was he a 
feature in the food supply, but in a mechanical 
way, and the first object sought by the boys, 
after their plan had been agreed upon, was 
the shell of the great clam. They had no 
difficulty in securing what they wanted, for 
strewn all about each cave were the big shells 
in abundance. Sharp-edged, firm-backed, one 
of these shells made an admirable little shovel, 



48 THE STORY OF AB 

something with which to cut the turf and 
throw up the soil, a most useful implement in 
the hands of the river haunting people. The 
idea of the youngsters was simply this: Their 
rendezvous should be at that point in the forest 
nearest the clump of trees standing solitary in 
the valley below. They would select the safest 
hours and then from the high ground make a 
sudden dash to the tree clump. They would 
be watchful, of course, and seek to avoid the 
class of animals for whom boys made admir- 
able luncheon. Once at the clump of trees 
and safely ensconced among the branches, they 
could determine wisely upon the next step in 
their adventure. They were very knowing, 
these young men, for they had observed their 
elders. What they wanted to do, what was 
the end and aim of all this recklessness, was 
to dig a pit in this rich valley land close to the 
clump of trees, a pit say some ten feet in 
length by six feet in breadth and seven or 
eight feet in depth. That meant a gigantic 
labor. Gillian, of "The Toilers of the Sea," 
assigned to himself hardly a greater task. 
These were boys of the cave kind and must, 
perforce, conduct themselves originally. As 
to the details of the plan, well, they were only 



A GREAT ENTERPRISE 49 

vague, as yet, but rapidly assuming a form 
more definite. 

The first thing essential for the boys was to 
reach the clump of trees. It was just before 
noon one day when they swung together on a 
tree branch sweeping nearly to the ground, 
and at a point upon the hill directly opposite 
the clump. This was the time selected for 
their first dash. They studied every square 
yard of the long grass of the little valley with 
anxious eyes. In the distance was feeding a 
small drove of wild horses and, farther away, 
close by the river side, upreared occasionally 
what might be the antlers of the great elk of 
the period. Between the boys and the clump 
of trees there was no movement of the grass, 
nor any sign of life. They could discern no 
trace of any lurking beast. 

''Are you afraid.?" asked Ab. 

''Not if we run together." 

"All right," said Ab; "let's go it with a 
rush." 

The slim brown bodies dropped lightly to 
the ground together, each of the boys clasping 
one of the clamshells. Side by side they 
darted down the slope and across through the 
deep grass until the clump of trees was reached, 
4 



50 THE STORY OF AB 

when, like two young apes, they scrambled 
into the safety of the branches. 

The tree up which they had clambered was 
the largest of the group and of dense foliage. 
It was one of the huge conifers of the age, but 
its branches extended to within perhaps thirty 
feet of the ground, and from the greatest of 
these side branches reached out, growing so 
close together as to make almost a platform. 
It was but the work of a half hour for these 
boys, with their arboreal gifts, to twine addi- 
tional limbs together and to construct for 
themselves a solid nest and lookout where 
they might rest at ease, at a distance above 
the greatest leap of any beast existing. In 
this nest they curled themselves down and, 
after much clucking debate, formulated their 
plan of operation. Only one boy should dig 
at a time, the other must remain in the nest 
as a lookout. 

Swift to act in those days were men, be- 
cause necessity had made it a habit to them, 
and swifter still, as a matter of course, were 
impulsive boys. Their tree nest fairly made, 
work, they decided, must begin at once. The 
only point to be determined upon was regard- 
ing the location of the pit. There was a 



A GREAT ENTERPRISE 51 

tempting spread of green herbage some hun- 
dred feet to the north and east of the tree, a 
place where the grass was high but not so 
high as it was elsewhere. It had been grazed 
already by the wandering horses and it was 
likely that they would visit the tempting area 
again. There, it was finally settled, should 
the pit be dag. It was quite a distance from 
the tree, but the increased chances of securing 
a wild horse by making the pit in that partic- 
ular place more than offset, in the estimation 
of the boys, the added danger of a longer run 
for safety in an emergency. The only ques- 
tion remaining was as to who should do the 
first digging and who be the first lookout .-* 
There was a violent debate upon this subject. 

''I will go and dig and you shall keep 
watch," said Oak. 

'*No, I'll dig and' you shall watch," was 
Ab's, response. " I can run faster than you." 

Oak hesitated and was reluctant. He was 
sturdy, this young gentleman, but Ab pos- 
sessed, somehow, the mastering spirit. It was 
settled finally that Ab should dig and Oak 
should watch. And so Ab slid down the tree, 
clamshell in hand, and began laboring vigor- 
ously at the spot agreed upon. 



52 THE STORY OF AB 

It was not a difficult task for a strong boy 
to cut through tough grass roots with the keen 
edge of the clamshell. He outlined roughly 
and rapidly the boundaries of the pit to be 
dug and then began chopping out sods just as 
the workman preparing to garnish some park 
or lawn begins his work to-day. Meanwhile, 
Oak, all eyes, was peering in every direction. 
His place was one of great responsibility, and 
he recognized the fact. It was a tremendous 
moment for the 570ungsters. 



CHAPTER VI. 

A DANGEROUS VISITOR. 

It was not alone necessary for the plans of 
Ab and Oak that there should be made a deep 
hole in the ground. It was quite as essential 
for their purposes that the earth removed 
should not be visible upon the adjacent sur- 
face. The location of the pit, as has been 
explained, was some yards to the northeast 
of the tree in which the lookout had been 
made. A few yards southwest of the tree 
was a slight declivity and damp hollow, for 
from that point the land sloped in a reed- 
grown marsh toward the river. It was de- 
cided to throw into this marsh all the exca- 
vated soil, and so, when Ab had outlined the 
pit and cut up its surface into sods, he carried 
them one by one to the bank and cast them 
down among the reeds where the water still 
made little puddles. In time of flood the 
river spread out into a lake, reaching even as 
far as here. The sod removed, there was 
exposed a rectangle of black soil, for the 

53 



54 



THE STORY OF AB 



earth was of alluvial deposit and easy of dig- 
ging. Shellful after shellful of the dirt did 
Ab carry from where the pit was to be, trot- 
ting patiently back and forth, but the work 
was wearisome and there was a great waste 
of energy. It was Oak who gave an inspira- 
tion. 

''We must carry more at a time," he called 
out. And then he tossed down to Ab a wolf- 
skin which had been given him by his father 
as a protection on cold nights and which he 
had brought along, tied about his waist, quite 
incidentally, for, ordinarily, these boys wore 
no clothing in warm weather. Clothing, in 
the cave time, appertained only to manhood 
and womanhood, save in winter. But Oak 
had brought the skin along because he had 
noticed a vast acorn crop upon his way to and 
from the rendezvous and had in mind to carry 
back to his own home cave some of the nuts. 
The pelt was now to serve an immediately 
useful purpose. 

Spreading the skin upon the grass beside 
him, Ab heaped it with the dirt until there 
had accumulated as much as he could carry, 
when, gathering the corners together, he 
struggled with the enclosed load manfully to 



A DANGEROUS VISITOR 55 

the bank and spilled it down into the morass. 
The digging went on rapidly until Ab, out of 
breath and tired, threw down the skin and 
climbed into the treetop and became the 
watchman, while Oak assumed his labor. So 
they worked alternately in treetop and upon 
the ground until the sun's rays shot red and 
slanting from the west. Wiser than to linger 
until dusk had too far deepened were these 
youngsters of the period. The clamshells 
were left in the pit. The lookout above de- 
clared nothing in sight, then slid to the ground 
and joined his friend, and another dash was 
made to the hill and the safety of its treetops. 
It was in great spirits that the boys separated 
to seek their respective homes. They felt 
that the}^ were personages of consequence. 
They had no doubt of the success of the en- 
terprise in which they had embarked, and the 
next day found them together again at an 
early hour, when the digging was enthusiastic- 
ally resumed. 

Many a load of dirt was carried on the sec- 
ond day from the pit to the marsh's edge, and 
only once did the lookout have occasion to 
suggest to his working companion that he had 
better climb the tree. A movement in the 



56 THE STORY OF AB 

high grass some hundred yards away had 
aroused suspicion; some wild animal had 
passed, but, whatever it was, it did not ap- 
proach the clump of trees and work was re- 
sumed at once. When dusk came the moist 
black soil found in the pit had all been carried 
away and the boys had reached, to their in- 
tense disgust, a stratum of hard packed gravel. 
That meant infinitely more difficult work for 
them and the use of some new utensil. 

There was nothing daunting in the new 
problem. When it came to the mere matter 
of securing a tool for digging the hard gravel, 
both Ab and Oak were easily at home. The 
cave dwellers, haunting the river side for cen- 
turies, had learned how to deal with gravel, 
and when Ab returned to the scene the next 
day he brought with him a sturdy oaken stave 
some six feet in length, sharpened to a point 
and hardened in the fire until it was almost 
iron-like in its quality. Plunged into the 
gravel as far as the force of a blow could 
drive it, and pulled backward with the lever- 
age obtained, the gravel was loosened and 
pried upward either in masses which could be 
lifted out entire, or so crumbled that it could 
be easily dished out with the clamshell. The 



A DANGEROUS VISITOR 57 

work went on more slowly, but not less stead- 
ily nor hopefully than on the days preceding, 
and, for some time, was uninterrupted by any 
striking incident. The boys were becoming 
buoyant. They decided that the grassy val- 
ley was almost uninfested by things dangerous. 
They became reckless sometimes, and would 
work in the pit together. As a rule, though, 
they were cautious — this was an inherent and 
necessary quality of a cave being — and it was 
well for them that it was so, for when an 
emergency came only one of them was in the 
pit, while the other was aloft in the lookout 
and alert. 

It was about three o'clock one afternoon 
when Ab, whose turn it chanced to be, was 
working valiantly in the pit, while Oak, all 
eyes, was perched aloft. Suddenly there came 
from the treetop a yell which was no boyish 
expression of exuberance of spirits. It was 
something which made Ab leap from the ex- 
cavation as he heard it and reach the side of 
Oak as the latter came literally tumbling down 
the bole of the tree of watching. 

"Run!" Oak said, and the two darted 
across the valley and reached the forest and 
clambered into safe hiding among the clus- 



58 THE STORY OF AB 

tering branches. Then, in the intervals be- 
tween his gasping breath, Oak managed to 
again articulate a word: 

"Look!" he said. 

Ab looked and, in an instant, realized how 
wise had been Oak's alarming cry and how 
well it was for them that they were so distant 
from the clump of trees so near the river. 
What he saw was that which would have 
made the boys' fathers flee as swiftly had they 
been in their children's place. Yet what Ab 
looked upon was only a waving, in sinuous 
regularity, of the rushes between the tree 
clump and the river and the lifting of a head 
some ten or fifteen feet above the reed-tops. 
What had so alarmed the boys was what 
would have disturbed a whole tribe of their 
kinsmen, even though they had chanced to be 
assembled, armed to the teeth with such 
weapons as they then possessed. What they 
saw was not of the common. Very rarely in- 
deed, along the Thames, had occurred such an 
invasion. The father of Oak had never seen 
the thing at all, and the father of Ab had seen 
it but once, and that many years before. It 
was the great serpent of the seas! 

Safely concealed in the branches of a tree 



A DANGEROUS VISITOR 59 

overlooking the little valley, the boys soon 
recovered their normal breathing capacity and 
were able to converse again. Not more than 
a couple of minutes, at the utmost, had passed 
between their departure from their place of 
labor and their establishment in this same 
tree. The creature which had so alarmed 
them was still gliding swiftly across the morass 
between the lowland and the river. It came 
forward through the marsh undeviatingly to- 
ward the tree clump, the tall reeds quivering as 
it passed, but its approach indicated by no 
sound or other token of disturbance. The 
slight bank reached, there was uplifted a great 
serpent head, and then, without hesitation, 
the monster swept forward to the trees and 
soon hung dangling from the branches of the 
largest one, its great coils twined loosely about 
trunk and limb, its head swinging gently back 
and forth just below the lower branch. It was 
a serpent at least sixty feet in length, and two 
feet or more in breadth at its huge middle. It 
was queerly but not brilliantly spotted, and 
its head was very nearly that of the anaconda 
of to-day. Already the sea-serpent had become 
amphibious. It had already acquired the knowl- 
edge it has transmitted to the anaconda, that 



6o 



THE STORY OF AB 



it might leave the stream, and, from some 
vantage point upon the shore, find more surely 
a victim than in the waters of the sea or river. 
This monster serpent was but waiting for the 
advent of any land animal, save perhaps those 
so great as the mammoth or the great elk, or, 
possibly, even the cave bear or the cave tiger. 
The mammoth was, of course, an impossibility, 
even to the sea-serpent. The elk, with its size 
and vast antlers, was, to put it at the mildest, 
a perplexing thing to swallow. The rhinoc- 
eros was dangerous, and as for the cave bear 
and the cave tiger, they were uncomfortable 
customers for anything alive. But there were 
the cattle, the aurochs and the urus, and the 
little horses and deer, and wild hog and a score 
of other creatures which, in the estimation of 
the sea-serpent, were extremely edible. A 
tidbit to the serpent was a man, but he did 
not get one in half a century. 

Not long did the boys remain even in a 
harborage so distant. Each fled homeward 
with his story. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 

It was with scant breath, when they reached 
their respective caves, that the boys told the 
story of the dread which had invaded the 
marsh-land. What they reported was no light 
event and, the next morning, their fathers were 
with them in the treetop at the safe distance 
which the wooded crest afforded and watch- 
ing with apprehensive eyes the movements 
of the monster settled in the rugged valley 
tree. There was slight movement to note. 
Coiled easily around the bole, just above 
where the branches began, and resting a 
portion of its body ut)on a thick, extending 
limb, its head and perhaps ten or fifteen feet 
of its length swinging downward, the great 
serpent still hung awaiting its prey, ready to 
launch itself upon any hapless victim which 
might come within its reach. That its appe- 
tite would soon be gratified admitted of little 
doubt. Profiting by the absence of the boys, 
who while at work made no effort to conceal 

6i 



62 THE STORY OF AB 

themselves, groups of wild horses were already 
feeding in the lowlands, and the elk and wild 
ox were visible here and there. The group 
in the treetop on the crest realized that it 
had business on hand. The sea-serpent was 
a terror to the cave people, and when one 
appeared to haunt the river the word was 
swiftly spread, and they gathered to accom- 
plish its end if possible. With warnings to 
the boys they left behind them, the fathers 
sped away in different directions, one up, the 
other down, the river's bank, Stripe-Face to 
seek the help of some of the cave people and 
One-Ear to arouse the Shell people, as they 
were called, whose home was beside a creek 
some miles below. Into the home of the 
little colony One-Ear went swinging a little 
later, demanding to see the head man of the 
fishing village, and there ensued an earnest 
conversation of short sentences, but one 
which caused immediate commotion. To the 
hill dwellers the rare advent of a sea-serpent 
was comparatively a small matter, but it was 
a serious thing to the Shell folk. The sea- 
serpent might come up the creek and be 
among them at any moment, ravaging their 
community, The Shell people were grateful 



THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 63 

for the warning, but there were few of them 
at home, and less than a dozen could be 
mustered to go with One-Ear to the rendez- 
vous. 

They were too late, the hardy people who 
came up to assail the serpent, because the ser- 
pent had not waited for them. The two boys 
roosting in the treetop on the height had 
beheld what was not pleasant to look upon, 
for they had seen a yearling of the aurochs 
enveloped by the thing, which whipped down 
suddenly from the branches, and the crushed 
quadruped had been swallowed in the ser- 
pent's way. But the dinner which might 
suffice it for weeks had not, in all entirety, 
the effect upon it which would follow the 
swallowing of a wild deer by its degenerate 
descendants of the Amazonian or Indian 
forests. 

The serpent did not lie a listless mass, help- 
lessly digesting the product of the tragedy 
upon the spot of its occurrence, but crawled 
away slowly through the reeds, and instinct- 
ively to the water, into which it slid with 
scarce a splash, and then went drifting lazily 
away upon the current toward the sea. It had 
been years since one of these big water ser- 



64 THE STORY OF AB 

pents had invaded the river at such a distance 
from its mouth and never came another up so 
far. There were causes promoting rapidly 
the extinction of their dreadful kind. 

Three or four days were required before Ab 
and Oak realized, after what had taken place, 
that there were in the community any more 
important personages than they, and that 
they had work before them, if they were to 
continue in their glorious career. When every- 
day matters finally asserted themselves, there 
was their pit not yet completed. Because of 
their absence, a greater aggregation of beasts 
was feeding in the little vaUey. Not only the 
aurochs, the ancient bison, the urus, the pro- 
genitor of the horned cattle of to-day, wild 
horse and great elk and reindeer were seen 
within short distances from each other, but 
the big, hairy rhinoceros of the time was 
crossing the valley again and rioting in its herb- 
age or wallowing in the pools where the valley 
dipped downward to the marsh. The mam- 
moth with its young had swung clumsily across 
the area of rich feed, and, lurking in its train, 
eyeing hungrily and bloodthirstily the mam- 
moth's calf, had crept the great cave tiger. 
The monster cave bear had shambled through 



THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 65 

the high grass, seeking some small food in de- 
fault of that which might follow the conquest 
of a beast of size. The uncomely hyenas had 
gone slinking here and there and had found 
something worthy their foul appetite. All this 
change had come because the two boys, being 
boys and full of importance, had neglected their 
undertaking for about a week and had talked 
each in his own home with an air intended to 
be imposing, and had met each other with 
much dignity of bearing, at their favorite 
perching-place in the treetop on the hillside. 
When there came to them finally a conscious- 
ness that, to remain people of magnitude in 
the world, they must continue to do some- 
thing, they went to work bravely. The change 
which had come upon the valley in their brief 
absence tended to increase their confidence, 
for, as thus exhibited, early as was the age, 
the advent of the human being, young or old, 
somehow affected all animate nature and ter- 
rified it, and the boys saw this. Not that the 
great beasts did not prey upon man, but then, 
as now, the man to the great beast was some- 
thing of a terror, and man, weak as he was, knew 
himself and recognized himself as the head of 
all creation. The mammoth, the huge, thick- 
5 



66 THE STORY OF AB 

coated rhinoceros, sabre-tooth, the monstrous 
tiger, or the bear, or the hyena, or the loping 
wolf, or short-bodied and vicious wolverine 
were to him, even then, but lower creatures. 
Man felt himself the master of the world, and 
his children inherited the perception. 

Work in the pit progressed now rapidly and 
not a great number of days passed before it 
had attained the depth required. The boy at 
work was compelled, when emerging, to climb 
a dried branch which rested against the pit's 
edge, and the lookout in the tree exercised an 
extra caution, since his comrade below could 
no longer attain safety in a moment. But the 
work was done at last, that is, the work of 
digging, and there remained but the comple- 
tion of the pitfall, a delicate though not a 
difficult matter. Across the pit, and very 
close together, were laid criss-crosses of slender 
branches, brought in armfuls from the forest; 
over these dry grass was spread, thinly but 
evenly, and over this again dust and dirt and 
more grass and twigs, all precautions being ob- 
served to give the place a natural appearance. 
In this the boys succeeded very well. Shrewd 
must have been the animal of any sort which 
could detect the trap. Their chief work done. 



THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 67 

the boys must now wait wisely. The place 
was deserted again and no nearer approach 
was made to the pitfall than the treetops of 
the hillside. There the boys were to be found 
every day, eager and anxious and hopeful as 
boys are generally. There was not occasion 
for getting closer to the trap, for, from their 
distant perch, its surface was distinctly visible 
and they could distinguish if it had been broken 
in. Those were days of suppressed excitement 
for the two; they could see the buffalo and 
wild horses moving here and there, but fortune 
was still perverse and the trap was not ap- 
proached. Before its occupation by them, the 
place where they had dug had appeared the 
favorite feeding-place; now, with all perversity, 
the wild horses and other animals grazed else- 
where, and the boys began to fear that they 
had left some traces of their work which re- 
vealed it to the wily beasts. On one day, for 
an hour or two, their hearts were in their 
mouths. There issued from the forest to the 
westward the stately Irish elk. It moved for- 
ward across the valley to the waters on the 
other side, and, after drinking its fill, began 
feeding directly toward the tree clump. It 
reached the immediate vicinity of the pitfall 



68 THE STORY OF AB 

and stood beneath the trees, fairly outhned 
against the opening beyond, and affording to 
the almost breathless couple a splendid spec- 
tacle. A magnificent creature was the great 
elk of the time of the cave men, the Irish elk, 
as those who study the past have named it, 
because its bones have been found so fre- 
quently in what are now the preserving peat 
bogs of Ireland. But the elk passed beyond 
the sight of the watchers, and so their bright 
hopes fell. 

The crispness of full autumn had come, one 
morning, when Ab and Oak met as usual and 
looked out across the valley to learn if any- 
thing had happened in the vicinity of the pit- 
fall. The hoar frost, lying heavily on the 
herbage, made the valley resemble a sea of 
silver, checkered and spotted all over darkly. 
These dark spots and lines were the traces of 
such animals as had been in the valley during 
the night or toward early morning. Leading 
everywhere were heavy trails and light ones, 
telling the story of the night. But very little 
heed to these things was paid by the ardent 
boys. They were too full of their ov/n affairs. 
As they swung into place together upon their 
favorite limb and looked across the valley, 



THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 69 

they uttered a simultaneous and joyous shout. 
Something had taken place at the pitfall! 

All about the trap the surface of the ground 
was dark and the area of darkness extended 
even to the little bank of the swamp on the 
riverside. Careless of danger, the boys 
dropped to the ground and, spears in hand, 
ran like deer toward the scene of their weeks 
of labor. Side by side they bounded to the 
edge of the excavation, which now yawned 
open to the sky. They had triumphed at last! 
As they saw what the pitfall held, they yelled 
in unison, and danced wildly around the open- 
ing, in the very height of boyish triumph. 
The exultation was fully justified, for the pit- 
fall held a young rhinoceros, a creature only a 
few months old, but so huge already that it 
nearly filled the excavation. It was utterly 
helpless in the position it occupied. It was 
wedged in, incapable of moving more than 
slightly in any direction. Its long snout, with 
its sprouting pair of horns, was almost level 
with the surface of the ground and its small 
bright eyes leered wickedly at its noisy ene- 
mies. It struggled clumsily upon their ap- 
proach, but nothing could relieve the hopeless- 
ness of its plight. 



70 THE STORY OF AB 

All about the pitfall the earth was plowed 
in furrows and beaten down by the feet of 
some monstrous animal. Evidently the calf 
was in the company of its mother when it fell 
a victim to the art of the pitfall diggers. It 
was plain that the mother had spent most of 
the night about her young in a vain effort to re- 
lease it. Well did the cave boys understand 
the signs, and, after their first wild outburst 
of joy over the capture, a sense of the delicacy, 
not to say danger, of their situation came upon 
them. It was not well to interfere with the 
family affairs of the rhinoceros. Where had 
the mother gone.^ They looked about, but 
could see nothing to justify their fears. Only 
for a moment, though, did their sense of safety 
last; hardly had the echo of their shouting 
come back from the hillside than there was a 
splashing and rasping of bushes in the swamp 
and the rush of some huge animal toward the 
little ascent leading to the valley proper. 
There needed no word from either boy; the 
frightened couple bounded to the tree of refuge 
and had barely begun clambering up its trunk 
than there rose to view, mad with rage and 
charging viciously, the mother of the calf 
rhinoceros. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS. 

The rhinoceros of the Stone Age was a 
monstrous creature, an animal varying in 
many respects from either species of the ani- 
mal of the present day, though perhaps some- 
what closely allied to the huge double-horned 
and now nearly extinct white rhinoceros of 
southern Africa. But the brute of the pre- 
historic age was a beast of greater size, and 
its skin, instead of being bare, was densely cov- 
ered with a dingy colored, crinkly hair, almost 
a wool. It was something to be dreaded by 
most creatures even in this time of great, fierce 
animals. It turned 'aside for nothing; it was 
the personification of courage and senseless 
ferocity when aroused. Rarely seeking a 
conflict, it avoided none. The hugh mam- 
moth, a more peaceful pachyderm, would or- 
dinarily hesitate before barring its path, while 
even the cave tiger, fiercest and most dreaded 
of the carnivora of the time, though it might 
prey upon the young rhinoceros when oppor- 

71 



72 THE STORY OF AB 

tunity occurred, never voluntarily attacked the 
full-grown animal. From that almost imper- 
vious shield of leather hide, an inch or more 
in thickness, protected further by the woolly 
covering, even the terrible strokes of the tiger's 
claws glanced off with but a trifling rending, 
while one single lucky upward heave of the 
twin horns upon the great snout would pierce 
and rend, as if it were a trifling obstacle, the 
body of any animal existing. The lifting 
power of that prodigious neck was something 
almost beyond conception. It was an awful 
engine of death when its opportunity chanced 
to come. On the other hand, the rhinoceros 
of this ancient world had but a limited range 
of vision, and was as dull-witted and danger- 
ously impulsive as its African prototype of to- 
day. 

But short-sighted as it was, the boys clam- 
bering up the tree were near enough for the 
perception of the great beast which burst 
over the hummock, and it charged directly at 
them, the tree quivering when the shoulder of 
the monster struck it as it passed, though the 
boys, already in the branches, were in safety. 
Checking herself a little distance beyond, the 
rhinoceros mother returned, snorting fiercely, 



SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS 73 

and began walking round and round the calf 
imprisoned in the pitfall. The boys compre- 
hended perfectly the story of the night. The 
calf once ensnared, the mother had sought in 
vain to rescue it, and, finally, wearied with 
her exertion, had retired just over the little 
descent, there to wallow and rest while still 
keeping guard over her imprisoned young. 
The spectacle now, as she walked around the 
trap, was something which would have been 
pitiful to a later race of man. The beast 
would get down upon her knees and plow 
the dirt about the calf with her long horns. 
She would seek to get her snout beneath its 
body sidewise, and so lift it, though each 
effort was necessarily futile. There was no 
room for any leverage, the calf fitted the 
cavity. The boys clung to their perches in 
safety, but in perplexlity. Hours passed, but 
the mother rhinoceros showed no inclination 
to depart. It was three o'clock in the after- 
noon when she went away to the wallow, re- 
turning once or twice to her young before de- 
scending the bank, and, even when she had 
reached the marsh, snorting querulously for 
some time before settling down to rest. 

The boys waited until all was quiet in the 



74 THE STORY OF AB 

marsh, and, as a matter of prudence, for 
some time longer. They wanted to feel as- 
sured that the monster was asleep, then, 
quietly, they slid down the tree trunk and, 
with noiseless step, stole by the pitfall and 
toward the hillside. A few yards further on 
their pace changed to a run, which did not 
cease until they reached the forest and its 
refuge, nor, even there, did they linger for 
any length of time. Each started for his 
home; for their adventure had again assumed 
a quality which demanded the consideration 
of older heads and the assistance of older 
hands. It was agreed that they should again 
bring their fathers with them — by a fortunate 
coincidence each knew where to find his par- 
ent on this particular day — and that they 
should meet as soon as possible. It was more 
than an hour later when the two fathers and 
two sons, the men armed with the best weap- 
ons they possessed, appeared upon the scene. 
So far as the watchers from the hillside 
could determine, all was quiet about the clump 
of trees and the vicinity of the pitfall. It was 
late in the afternoon now and the men decided 
that the best course to pursue would be to 
steal down across the valley, kill the impris- 



SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS 75 

oned calf and then escape as soon as possible, 
leaving the mother to find her offspring dead; 
reasoning that she would then abandon it. 
Afterward the calf could be taken out and 
there would be a feast of cave men upon the 
tender food and much benefit derived in util- 
ization of the tough yet not, at its age, too 
thick hide of the uncommon quarry. There 
was but one difficulty in the way of carrying 
out this enterprise: the wind was from the 
north and blew from the hunters toward the 
river, and the rhinoceros, though lacking 
much range of vision, was as acute of scent as 
the gray wolves which sometimes strayed like 
shadows through the forest or the hyenas 
which scented from afar the living or the 
dead. Still, the venture was determined 
upon. 

The four descended the hill, the two boys 
in the rear, treading with the lightness of the 
tiger cat, and went cautiously across the valley 
and toward the tree trunk. Certainly no sound 
they made could have reached the ear of the 
monster wallowing below the bank, but the 
wind carried to its nostrils the message of their 
coming. They were not half way across the 
valley when the rhinoceros floundered up to 



76 THE STORY OF AB 

the level and charged wildly along the course 
of the wafted scent. There was a flight for 
the hillside, made none too soon, but yet in 
time for safety. Walking around in circles, 
snorting viciously, the great beast lingered in 
the vicinity for a time, then went back to its 
imprisoned calf, where it repeated the per- 
formance of earlier in the day and finally re- 
tired again to its hidden resting-place near by. 
It was dusk now and the shadows were deep- 
ening about the valley. 

The men, well up in the tree with the 
boys, were undetermined what to do. They 
might steal along to the eastward and approach 
the calf from another direction without dis- 
turbing the great brute by their scent. But 
it was becoming darker every moment and the 
region was a dangerous one. In the valley 
and away from the trees they were at a disad- 
vantage and at night there were fearful things 
abroad. Still, they decided to take the risk, 
and the four, following the crest of the slight 
hill, moved along its circle southeastward 
toward the river bank, each on the alert and 
each with watchful eyes scanning the forest 
depths to the left or the valley to the right. Sud- 
denly One-Ear leaped back into the shadow, 



SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS 77 

waved his hand to check the advance of those 
behind him, then pointed silently across the 
valley and toward the clump of trees. 

Not a hundred yards from the pitfall the 
high grass was swaying gently; some creature 
was passing along toward the pitfall and a 
thing of no slight size. Every eye of the quar- 
tet was strained now to learn what might be 
the interloper upon* the scene. It was nearly 
dark, but the eyes of the cave men, almost 
nocturnal in their adaptation as they were, 
distinguished a long, dark body emerging from 
the reeds and circling curiously and cautiously 
around the pitfall; nearer and nearer it ap- 
proached the helpless prisoner until perhaps 
twenty feet distant from it. Here the thing 
seemed to crouch and remain quiescent, but 
only for a little time. Then resounded across 
the valley a screaming roar, so fierce and rau- 
cous and death-telling and terrifying that even 
the hardened hunters leaped with affright. At 
the same moment a dark object shot through 
the air and landed on the back of the creature 
in the shallow pit. The tiger was abroad! 
There was a wild bleat of terror and agony, a 
growl fiercer and shorter than the first hoarse 
cry of the tiger, and, then, for a moment silence, 



78 THE STORY OF A3 

but only for a moment. Snorts, almost as 
terrible in their significance as the tiger's roar, 
came from the marsh's edge. A vast form 
loomed above the slight embankment and there 
came the thunder of ponderous feet. The rhi- 
noceros mother was charging the great tiger! 

There was a repetition of the fierce snorts, 
with the wild rush of the rhinoceros, another 
roar, the sound of which reechoed through the 
valley, and then could be dimly seen a black 
something flying through the air and alighting, 
apparently, upon the back of the charging 
monster. There was a confusion of forms and 
a confusion of terrifying sounds, the snarling 
roar of the great tiger and half whistling bel- 
low of the great pachyderm, but nothing could 
be seen distinctly. That a gigantic duel was in 
progress the cave men knew, and knew, as 
well, that its scene was one upon which they 
could not venture. The clamor had not ended 
when the darkness became complete and then 
each father, with his son, fled swiftly home- 
ward. 

Early the next morning, the four were to- 
gether again at the same point of safety and 
advantage, and again the frost-covered valley 
was a sea of silver, this time unmarred by the 



SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS 79 

criss-crosses of feeding or hunting animals. 
There was no sign of Hfe; no creature of the 
forest or the plain was so daring as to venture 
soon upon the battlefield of the rhinoceros and 
the cave tiger. Cautiously the cave men and 
their sons made their way across the valley 
and approached the pitfall. What was re- 
vealed to them told in a moment the whole 
story. The half-devoured body of the rhinoc- 
eros calf was in the pit. It had been killed, no 
doubt, by the tiger's first fierce assault, its back 
broken by the first blow of the great forearm, 
or its vertebrae torn apart by the first grasp 
of the great jaws. There were signs of the 
conflict all about, but that it had not come to 
a deadly issue was apparent. Only by some 
accident could the rhinoceros have caught 
upon its horns the agile monster cat, and only 
by an accident even rnore remote could the 
tiger have reached a vital part of its huge en- 
emy. There had been a long and weary 
battle — a mother creature fighting for her 
young and the great flesh-eater fighting for his 
prey. But the combatants had assuredly sep- 
arated without the death of either, and the 
bereaved rhinoceros, knowing her young one 
to be dead, had finally left the valley, while 



8o THE STORY OF AB 

the tiger had returned to its prey and fed its 
fill. But there was much meat left. There 
were, in the estimation of the cave people, 
few more acceptable feasts than that obtain- 
able from the flesh of a young rhinoceros. 
The first instinct of the two men was to work 
fiercely with their flint knives and cut out 
great lumps of meat from the body in the pit. 
Hardly had they begun their work, when, as 
by common impulse, each clambered out from 
the depression suddenly, and there was a brief 
and earnest discussion. The cave tiger, mon- 
arch of the time, was not a creature to aban- 
don what he had slain until he had devoured 
it utterly. Gorged though he might be, he 
was undoubtedly in hiding within a compar- 
atively short distance. He would return again 
inevitably. He might be lying sleeping in 
the nearest clump of bushes! It was possible 
that his appetite might come upon him soon 
again and that he might appear at any mo- 
ment. What chance then for the human 
beings who had ventured into his dining-room. !* 
There was but one sensible course to follow, 
and that was instant retreat. The four fled 
again to the hillside and the forest, carrying 
with them, however, the masses of flesh al- 



SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS «i 

ready severed from the body of the calf. 
There was food for a day or two for each 

family. 

And so ended the first woodland venture of 
these daring boys. For days the vicinity of 
the little valley was not sought by either man 
or youth, since the tiger might still be lurking 
near. When, later, the youths dared to visit 
the scene of their bold exploit, there were 
only bones in the pitfall they had made. The 
tiger had eaten its prey and had gone to other 
fields. In later autumn came a great flood 
down the valley, rising so high that the father 
of Oak and all his family were driven tempo- 
rarily from their cave by the water's influx 
and compelled to seek another habitation 
many miles away. Some time passed before 
the comrades met again. 

As for Ab, this exploit might be counted 
almost as the beginning of his manhood. His 
father — and fathers had even then a certain 
paternal pride — had come to recognize in a 
degree the vigor and daring of his son. 
The mother, of course, was even more appre- 
ciative, though to her firstborn she could give 
scant attention, as Ab had the small brother 
in the cave now and the little sister who was 
6 



82 THE STORY OF AB 

stiL smaller, but from this time the youth be- 
came a person of some importance. He grew 
rapidly, and the sinewy stripling developed, 
not increasing strength and stature and round- 
ing brawn alone, for he had both ingenuity 
and persistency of purpose, qualities which 
made him rather an exception among the cave 
boys of his age. 



CHAPTER IX. 

DOMESTIC MATTERS. 

Attention has already been called to the fact 
that the family of Ab were of the aristocracy 
of the region, and it should be added that the 
interior of One-Ear's mansion corresponded 
with his standing in the community. It was a 
fine cave, there was no doubt about that, and 
Red-Spot was a notable housekeeper. As a 
rule, the bones remaining about the fire after 
a meal were soon thrown outside — at least 
they were never allowed to accumulate for 
more than a month or two. The beds were 
excellent, for, in addition to the mass of leaves 
heaped upon the earth which formed a resting- 
place for the family, there were spread the 
skins of various animals. The water privileges 
of the establishment were extensive, for there 
was the river in front, much utilized — for 
drinking purposes. There were ledges and 
shelves of rock projecting here and there from 
the sides of the cave, and upon these were laid 
the weapons and implements of the household, 

83 



§4 THE STORY OF AB 

SO that, excepting an occasional bone upon 
the earthen floor, or, perhaps, a spattering of 
red, where some animal had been cut up for 
roasting, the place was very neat indeed. The 
fact that the smoke from the fire could, when 
the wind was right, ascend easily through the 
roof made the residence one of the finest within 
a large district of the country. As to light, it 
cannot be said that the house was well pro- 
vided. The fire at night illuminated a small 
area and, in the daytime, light entered through 
the doorway, and, to an extent, through the 
hole in the cave's top, as did also the rains, 
but the light was by no means perfect. The 
doorway, for obvious reasons, was narrow and 
there was a huge rock, long ago rolled inside 
with much travail, which could on occasion be 
utilized in blocking the narrow passage. 
Barely room to squeeze by this obstruction 
existed at the doorway. The sneaking but 
dangerous hyena had a keen scent and was 
full of curiosity. The monster bear of the time 
was ever hungry and the great cave tiger, 
though rarer, was, as has been shown, a haunt- 
ing dread. Great attention was paid to door- 
ways in those days, not from an artistic point 
of view exactly, but from reasons cogent enough 



DOMESTIC MATTERS 85 

in the estimation of the cave men. But the 
cave was warm and safe and the sharp eyes of 
its inhabitants, accustomed to the semi-dark- 
ness, found sHght difBculty in discerning ob- 
jects in the gloom. Very content with their 
habitation were all the family and Red-Spot 
particularly, as a chatelaine should, felt much 
pride in her surroundings. 

It may be added that the family of One- 
Ear was a happy one. His life with Red-Spot 
was the sequence of what might be termed a 
fortunate marriage. It is true that standards 
vary with times, and that the demeanor of 
the couple toward each other was occasionally 
not what would be counted the index of do- 
mestic felicity in this more artificial and de- 
ceptive age. It was never fully determined 
whether One-Ear or Red-Spot could throw a 
stone ax with the greater accuracy, although 
certainly he could hurl one with greater force 
than could his wife. But the deftness of each 
in eluding such dangerous missiles was about 
the same, and no great harm had at any time 
resulted from the effects of momentary ebulli- 
tions of anger, followed by action on the part 
of either. There had not been at any time a 
scandal in the family. The pair were faithful 



86 THE STORY OF AB 

to each other. Society was somewhat scat- 
tered in those days, and the cave twain, any- 
where, were generally as steadfast as the lion 
and the lioness. It was centuries later, too, 
before the cave men's posterity became degen- 
erate enough or prosperous enough, or safe 
enough, to be polygamous, and, so far as the 
area of the Thames valley or even the entire 
"Paris basin," as it is called, was concerned, 
monogamy held its own very fairly, from the 
shell -beds of the earliest kitchen-middens to 
the time of the bronze ax and the dawn of 
what we now call civilization. 

There were now five members in this family 
of the period, One-Ear, Red-Spot, Ab, Bark 
and Beech-Leaf, the two last named being Ab's 
younger brother and little more than baby 
sister. The names given them had come in 
the same accidental way as had the name of 
Ab. The brother, when very small, had imi- 
tated in babyish way the barking of some 
wolfish creature outside which had haunted 
the cave's vicinity at night time, and so the 
name of Bark, bestowed accidentally by Ab 
himself, had become the youngster's title for 
life. As to Beech-Leaf, she had gained her 
name in another way. She was a fat and joy- 



DOMESTIC MATTERS 87 

ous little specimen of a cave baby and not 
much addicted to lying as dormant as babies 
sometimes do. The bearskin upon which her 
mother laid her had not infrequently proven 
too limited an area for her exploits and she 
would roll from it into the great bed of beech 
leaves upon which it was placed, and become 
fairly lost in the brown mass. So often had 
this hilarious young lady to be disinterred from 
the beech leaf bed, that the name given her 
came naturally, through association of ideas. 
Between the birth of Ab and that of his younger 
brother an interval of five years had taken 
place, the birth of the sister occurring three or 
four years later. So it came that Ab, in the 
absence of his father and mother, was distinctly 
the head of the family, admonitory to his 
brother, with ideas as to the physical discipline 
requisite on occasion, and, in a rude way, fond 
of and protective toward the baby sister. 

There was a certain regularity in the daily 
program of the household, although, with 
reference to what was liable to occur outside, 
it can hardly be said to have partaken of the 
element of monotony. The work of the day 
consisted merely in getting something to eat, 
and in this work father and mother alike took 



88 THE STORY OF AB 

an active part, their individual duties being 
somewhat varied. In a general way One-Ear 
relied upon himself for the provision of flesh, 
but there were roots and nuts and fruits, in 
their season, and in the gathering of these 
Red-Spot was an admitted expert. Not that 
all her efforts were confined to the fruits of 
the soil and forest, for she could, if need be, 
assist her husband in the pursuit or capture of 
any animal. She was not less clever than he 
in that animal's subsequent dissection, and was 
far more expert in its cooking. In the tan- 
ning of skins she was an adept. So it chanced 
that at this time the father and mother fre- 
quently left the cave together in the morning, 
their elder son remaining as protector of the 
younger inmates. When occasionally he went 
with his parents, or was allowed to venture 
forth alone, extra precautions were taken as to 
the cave's approaches. Just outside the en- 
trance was a stone similar to the one on the 
inside, and when the two young children were 
left unguarded this outside barricade was rolled 
against what remained of the entrance, so 
that the small people, though prisoners, were 
at least secure from dangerous amimals. Of 
course there were variations in the program. 



DOMESTIC MATTERS 89 

There was that degree of fellowship among 
the cave men, even at this early age, to allow 
of an occasional banding together for hunting 
purposes, a battle of some sort or the sur- 
rounding and destruction of some of the 
greater animals. At such times One-Ear 
would be absent from the cave for days and 
Ab and his mother would remain sole guard- 
ians. The boy enjoyed these occasions im- 
mensely; they gave him a fine sense of re- 
sponsibility and importance, and did much 
toward the development of the manhood that 
was in him, increasing his self-reliance and 
perfecting him in the art of winning his daily 
bread, or what was daily bread's equivalent 
at the time in which he lived. It was not in 
outdoor and physical life alone that he grew. 
There was something more to him, a combi- 
nation of traits somewhere which made him a 
little beyond and above the mere seeker after 
food. He was never entirely dormant, a 
sleeper on the skins and beech leaves, even 
when in the shelter of the cave, after the 
day's adventures. He reasoned according to 
such gifts as circumstances had afforded him 
and he had the instinct of devising. An in- 
stinct toward devising was a great thing to its 
possessor in the time of the cave people. 



go THE STORY OF AB 

We know very well to-day, or think we 
know, that the influence of the mother, in 
most cases, dominates that of the father in 
making the future of the man-child. It may 
be that this comes because in early life the 
boy, throughout the time when all he sees or 
learns will be most clear in his memory until 
he dies, is more with the woman parent than 
with the man, who is afield; or, it may be, 
there is some criss-cross law of nature which 
makes the man ordinarily transmit his quali- 
ties to the daughter and the woman transmit 
hers to the son. About that we do not know 
yet. But it is certain that Ab was more like 
his mother than his father, and that in these 
young da3^s of his he was more immediately 
under her influence. And Red-Spot was su- 
perior in many ways to the ordinary woman 
of the cave time. 

It was good for the boy that he was so un- 
der the maternal dominion, and that, as he 
lingered about the cave, he aided in the mak- 
ing of threads of sinew or intestine, or looked 
on interestedly as his mother, using the bone 
needle, which he often sharpened for her with 
his flint scraper, sewed together the skins 
which made the garments of the family. The 



DOMESTIC MATTERS gi 

needle was one without an eye, a mere awl, 
which made holes through which the thread 
was pushed. As the growing boy lounged or 
labored near his mother, alternately helpful or 
annoying, as the case might be, he learned 
many things which were of value to him in 
the future, and resolved upon brave actions 
which should be greatly to his credit. He 
was but a cub, a young being almost as un- 
reasoning in some ways as the beasts of the 
wood, but he had his hopes and vanities, as has 
even the working beaver or the dancing crane, 
and from the long mother-talks came a degree 
of definiteness of outline to his ambitions. 
He would be the greatest hunter and warrior 
in all the region ! 

The cave mother easily understood her 
child's increasing daringness and vigor, and 
though swift to anger and strong of hand, she 
could not but feel a pride in and tell her tales to 
the boy beside her. After a time, when the 
family of Oak returned to the cave above and 
the boys were much together again, the mother 
began to see less of her son. The influence 
of the days spent by her side remained with 
the boy, however, and much that he learned 
there was of value in his later active life. 



CHAPTER X. 

OLD MOK, THE MENTOR. 

It was at about this time, the time when Ab 
had begun to develop from boyhood into strong 
and aspiring youth, that his family was increased 
from five to six by the addition of a singular 
character, Old Mok. This personage was bent 
and seemingly old, but he was younger than 
he looked, though he was not extremely fair to 
look upon. He had a shock of grizzled hair, 
a short, stiff, unpleasant beard, and the con- 
dition of one of his legs made him a cripple 
of an exaggerated type. He could hobble 
about and on great occasions make a journey 
of some length, but he was practically de- 
barred from hunting. The extraordinary curv- 
ature of his twisted leg was, as usual in his 
time, the result of an encounter with some 
wild beast. The limb curved like a corkscrew 
and was so much shorter than the other leg 
that the man was really safe only when the 
walls of a cave enclosed him. But if his legs 
were weak his brain and arms were not. In 

92 



OLD MOK, THE MENTOR 93 

that grizzled head was much intelHgence and 
the arms were those of a great cHmber. His 
toes were clasping things and he was at home 
in a treetop. But he did not travel much. 
There was no need. 

Old Mok had special gifts, and they were 
such as made him a desirable friend among 
the cave men. He had, in his youth, been a 
mighty hunter and had so learned that he 
could tell wonderfully the ways of beasts and 
swimming things and the ways of slaying or 
eluding them. Best of all, he was such a 
fashioner of weapons as the valley had rarely 
known, and, because of this, was in great re- 
quest as a cared-for inmate of almost any 
cave which hit his fancy. After his crippling 
he had drifted from one haven to another, 
never quite satisfied with what he found, and 
now he had come to live, as he supposed, with 
his old friend, One-Ear, until life should end. 
Despite his harshness of appearance — and 
neither of the two could ever afterward ex- 
plain it — there was something about the grim 
old man which commended him to Ab from 
the very first. There was an occasional twin- 
kle in the fierce old fellow's eye and some-_ 
times a certain cackle in his clucking talk, 



94 THE STORY OF AB 

which betokened not unkindHness toward a 
healthy youngster, and the two soon grew 
together, as often the young and old may do. 

Though but what might be called in one 
sense a dependent, the crippled hunter had a 
dignity and was arbitrary in the expression of 
his views. Never once, through all the thou- 
sands of years which have passed since he 
hobbled here and there, has lived an armorer 
more famous among those who knew him best. 
No fashioner of sword, or lance, or coat of 
mail or plate, in the far later centuries, had 
better reputation than had Mok with his 
friends and patrons for the making of good 
weapons, though it may be that his clientele 
was less numerous by hundreds to one than 
that of some later manufacturer of a Toledo 
blade. He might be living partly as a de- 
pendent, but he could do almost as he willed. 
Who should have standing if it were not ac- 
corded to the most gifted chipper of flint and 
carver of mammoth tooth in all the region 
from, where the little waters came down to 
make a river, to where the blue, broad stream, 
blending with friendly currents, was lost in 
what is now the great North Sea.^^ 

A boy and an old man can come together 



OLD MOK, THE MENTOR 95 

closely, and that has, through all the ages, 
been a good thing for each. The boy learns 
that which enables him to do things and the 
man is happy in watching the development of 
one of his own kind. Helping and advising 
Ab, and sometimes Oak as well. Old Mok did 
not discourage sometimes reckless undertak- 
ings. In those days chances were accepted. 
So when any magnificient scheme suggested 
itself to the two youths, Ab at once sought his 
adviser and was not discountenanced. 

It was a great night in the cave when Ab 
brought home two fluffy gray bundles not 
much larger than kittens and tied them in a 
corner with thongs of sinew, sinew so tough 
and stringy that it could not easily be severed 
by the sharp teeth which were at once applied 
to it. The fluffy gray bundles were two young 
wolves, and were, for Ab, a great possession. 
They were not even brother and sister, these 
cubs, and had been gallantly captured by the 
two courageous rangers, Ab and Oak. For 
some time the boys had noted lurking shadows 
about a rugged height close by the river, some 
distance below the cave of Ab, and had re- 
solved upon a closer investigation. A partic- 
ularly ugly brute was the wolf of the cave 



96 THE STORY OF AB 

man's time, but one which, when not in pack, 
was unlikely to assail two well-armed and 
sturdy youths in daylight; and the result of 
much cautious spying was that they found two 
dens, each with young in them, and at a time 
when the old wolves were away. In one den 
Ab seized upon two of the snarling cubs and 
Oak did the same in the other, and then the 
raiders fled with such speed as was in them, 
until they were at a safe distance from the 
place where things would not go well with 
them should the robbed parents return. Once 
in safe territory, each exchanged a cub for 
one seized by the other and then each went 
home in triumph. Ab was especially de- 
lighted. He was determined to feed his cubs 
with the utmost care and to keep them alive 
and growing. He was full of the fancy and 
delighted in it, but he had assumed a great 
responsibility. 

The cubs were tied in a corner of the cave 
and at once commanded the attention and un- 
bounded admiration of Bark and Beechleaf. 
The young lady especially delighted in the 
little beasts and could usually be found lying 
in the corner with them, the baby wolves 
learning in time to play with her as if she 



OLD MOK, THE MENTOR 97 

were a wolf-suckled cub herself. Bark had 
almost the same relations with the little brutes 
and Ab looked after them most carefully. 
Even the father and mother became interested 
in the antics of the young children and young 
wolves and the cubs became acknowledged, 
if not particularly respected, members of the 
family. But Ab's dream was too much for 
sudden realization. Not all at once could the 
wild thing become a tame one. As the cubs 
grew and their teeth became longer and 
sharper, there was an occasional conflict and 
the arms of Bark and Beechleaf were scarred 
in consequence, until at last Ab, though he 
protested hardly, was compelled to give up 
his pets. Somehow, he was not in the mood 
for killing the half grown beasts, and so he 
simply turned them loose, but they did not, 
as he had thought they would, flee to the for- 
est. They had known almost no life except 
that of the cave, they had got their meat there 
and, at night, the twain were at the doorway 
whining for food. To them were tossed some 
half-gnawed bones and they received them 
with joyous yelps and snarls. Thenceforth 
they hung about the cave and retained, prac- 
tically, their place in the family, oddly enough 
7 



gS THE STORY OF AB 

showing particular animosity to those of their 
own kind who ventured near the place. One 
day, the female was found in the cave's rear 
with four little whelps lying beside her, and 
that settled it! The family petted the young 
animals and they grew up tamer and more 
obedient than had been their father and 
mother. Protected by man, they were un- 
likely to revert to wildness. Members of the 
pack which grew from them were, in time, 
bestowed as valued gifts among the cave men 
of the region and much came of it. The two 
boys did a greater day's work than they could 
comprehend when they raided the dens by the 
river's side. 

But there was much beside the capture of 
wolf cubs to occupy the attention of the boys. 
They counted themselves the finest bird hunt- 
ers in the community and, to a certain extent, 
justified the proud claim made. No youths 
could set a snare more deftly or hurl a stone 
more surely, and there was much bird life for 
them to seek. The bustard fed in the vast 
nut forests, the capercailzie was proud upon 
the moors, where the heath-cock was as 
jaunty, and the willow grouse and partridge 
were wise in covert to avoid the hungry snowy 



OLD MOK, THE MENTOR 99 

owl. Upon the river and lagoons and creeks 
the swan and wild goose and countless duck 
made constant clamor, and there were water- 
rail and snipe along the shallows. There 
were eggs to be found, and an egg baked in 
the ashes was a thing most excellent. It was 
with the waterfowl that the boys were most 
successful. The ducks would in their feeding 
approach close to the shores of the river 
banks or the little islands and would gather 
in bunches so near to where the boys were 
hidden that the young hunters, leaping sud- 
denly to their feet and hurling their stones 
together, rarely failed to secure at least a 
single victim. There were muskrats along 
the banks and there was a great beaver, 
which was not abundant, and which was a 
mighty creature of his kind. Of muskrats the 
boys speared many — and roasted muskrat is 
so good that it is eaten by the Indians and 
some of the white hunters in Canada to-day — 
but the big beaver they did not succeed in 
capturing at this stage of their career. Once 
they saw a seal, which had come up the river 
from the sea, and pursued it, running along 
the banks for miles, but it proved as elusive 
as the great beaver. 



100 THE STORY OF AB 

But, as a matter of course, it was upon land 
that the greatest sport was had. There were 
the wild hogs, but the hogs were wary and 
the big boars dangerous, and it was only when 
a litter of the young could be pounced upon 
somewhere that flint-headed spears were fully 
up to the emergency. On such occasions 
there was fine pigsticking, and then the atmos- 
phere in the caves would be made fascinating 
with the odor of roasting suckling. There is 
a story by a great and gentle writer telling 
how a Chinaman first discovered the beauties 
of roast pig. It is an admirable tale and it is 
well that it was written, but the cave man, 
many tens of thousands of years before there 
was a China, yielded to the allurements of 
young pig, and sought him accordingly. 

The musk-ox, which still mingled with the 
animals of the river basin, was almost as difB- 
cult of approach as in arctic wilds to-day, as 
was a small animal, half goat, half antelope, 
which fed upon the rocky hillsides or wherever 
the high reaches were. There were squirrels 
in the trees, but they were seldom caught, and 
the tailless hare which fed in the river mead- 
ows was not easily approached and was swift 
as the sea wind in its flight, swifter than a 



OLD MOK, THE MENTOR loi 

sort of fox which sought it constantly. But 
the burrowing things were surer game. There 
were martens and zerboas, and marmots and 
hedgehogs and badgers, all good to eat and 
attainable to those who could dig as could 
these brawny youths. The game once driven 
to its hole, the clamshell and the sharpened 
fire-hardened spade-stick were brought into 
use and the fate of the animal sought was 
rarely long in doubt. It is true that the scene 
lacked one element very noticeable when boys 
dig out any animal to-day. There was not 
the inevitable and important dog, but the 
youths were swift of sight and quick of hand, 
and the hidden creature, once unearthed, sel- 
dom escaped. One of the prizes of those 
feats of excavation was the badger, for not 
only was it edible, but its snow-white teeth, 
perforated and strung on sinew, made neck- 
laces which were highly valued. 

The youths did not think of attacking many 
of the dangerous brutes. They might have 
risked the issue with a small leopard which 
existed then, or faced the wildcat, but what 
they sought most was the wolverine, because 
it had fur so long and oddly marked, and be- 
cause it was braver than other animals of its 



I02 THE STORY OF AB 

size and came more boldly to some bait of 
meat, affording opportunity for fine spear- 
throwing. And, apropos of the wolverine, 
the glutton, as it is called in Europe, it is 
something still admired. It is a vicious, 
bloodthirsty, unchanging and, to the widely-in- 
formed and scientifically sentimental, lovable 
animal. It is vicious and bloodthirsty be- 
cause that is its nature. It is lovable because, 
through all the generations, it has come down 
just the same. The cave man knew it just as 
it is now; the early Teuton knew it when 
''hides" of land were the rewards of warriors. 
The Roman knew it when he made forays to 
the far north for a few centuries and learned 
how sharp were the blades of the Rhine-folk 
and the Briton. The Druid and the Angle and 
Jute and Saxon knew it, and it is known to-day 
in all northern Europe and Asia and America, 
in fact, in nearly all the northern temperate 
zone. The wolverine is something wonderful; 
it laughs at the ages; its bones, found side by 
side with those of the cave hyena, are the 
same as those found in its body as it exists to- 
day. It is an anomaly, an animal which does 
not advance nor retrograde. 

The two big boys grew daily in the science 



OLD MOK, THE MENTOR 103 

of gaining food and grew more and more of 
importance in their respective households. 
Sometimes either one of them might hunt 
alone, but this was not the rule. It was safer 
for two than one, when the forest was invaded 
deeply. But not all their time was spent in 
evading or seeking the life of such living 
things as they might discover. They had a 
home life sometimes as entertaining as the 
Hfe found anywhere outside. 



CHAPTER XL 

DOINGS AT HOME. 

Those were happy times in the cave, where 
Ab, developing now into an exceedingly stal- 
wart youth, found the long evenings about the 
fire far from monotonous. There was Mok, 
the mentor, who had grown so fond of him, 
and there was most interesting work to do in 
making from the dark flint nodules or obsidian 
fragments — always eagerly seized upon when 
discovered by the cave people in their wander- 
ings — the spearheads and rude knives and skin 
scrapers so essential to their needs. The flint 
nodule was but a small mass of the stone, often 
somewhat pear-shaped. Though apparently 
a solid mass, composed of the hardest substance 
then known, it lay in what might be called a 
series of flakes about a center, and, in wise 
hands, these flakes could be chipped or pried 
away unbroken. The flake, once won, was 
often slightly concave on the outside and con- 
vex on the other, but the core of the stone 
was something more equally balanced in for- 

104 



DOINGS AT HOME 105 

mation and, when properly finished, made a 
mighty spearhead. For the heavy axes and 
mallets, other stones, such as we now call 
granite, redstone or quartose grit, were often 
used, but in the making of all the weapons 
was required the exercise of infinite skill and 
patience. To make the flakes symmetrical 
demanded the nicest perception and judgment 
of power of stroke, for, with each flake gained, 
there resulted a new form to the surface of the 
stone. The object was always to secure a 
flake with a point, a strong middle ridge and 
sides as nearly edged as possible. And in the 
striking off of these flakes and their finishing 
others of the cave men were to old Mok as 
the child is to the man. 

Ab hung about the old man at his work and 
was finally allowed to help him. If, at first, 
the boy could do nothing else, he could, with 
his flint scraper, work industriously at the 
smoothing of the long spear shafts, and when 
he had learned to do well at this he was at last 
allowed to venture upon the stone chipping, 
especially when into old Mok's possession had 
come a piece of flint the quality of which he 
did not quite approve and for the ruining of 
which in the splitting he cared but little. 



lo6 THE STORY OF AB 

There were disasters innumerable when the 
boy began and much bad stone was spoiled, 
but he had a will and a good eye and hand, 
and it came, in time, that he could strike off a 
flake with only a little less of deftness than his 
teacher and that, even in the more delicate 
work of the finer chipping to complete the 
weapon, he was a workman not to be despised. 
He had an ambition in it all and old Mok was 
satisfied with what he did. 

The boy was always experimenting, ever 
trying a new flint chipper or using a third stone 
to tap delicately the one held in the hand to 
make the fracture, or wondering aloud why it 
would not be well to make this flint knife a 
little thinner, or that spearhead a trifle heavier. 
He was questioning as he w^orked and some- 
thing of a nuisance with it all, but old Mok 
endured with what was, for him, an astonish- 
ing degree of patience, and would sometimes 
comment grumblingly to the effect that the 
boy could at least chip stone far better than 
some men. And then the veteran would look 
at One-Ear, who was, notoriously, a bad flint 
worker, — though, a weapon once in his grasp, 
there were few could use it with surer eye or 
heavier hand — and would chuckle as he made 



DOINGS AT HOME 1 07 

the comment. As for One-Ear, he listened 
placidly enough. He was glad a son of his 
could make good weapons. So much the 
better for the family! 

As times went, Ab was a tolerably good boy 
to his mother. Nearly all young cave males 
were good boys until the time came when their 
thews and sinews outmatched the strength of 
those who had borne them, and this, be it said, 
was at no early age, for the woman, hunting 
and working with the man, was no maternal 
weakling whose buffet was unworthy of notice. 
A blow from the cave mother's hand was some- 
thing to be respected and avoided. The use 
of strength was the general law, and the cave 
woman, though she would die for her young, 
yet demanded that her young should obey her 
until the time came when the maternal instinct 
of first direction blended with and was finally 
lost in pride over the force of the being to 
whom she had given birth. So Ab had vig- 
orous duties about the household. 

As has been told already, Red-Spot was a 
notable housekeeper and there was such prod- 
uct of the cave cooking as would make happy 
any gourmand of to-day who could appreciate 
the quality of what had a most natural flavor. 



lo8 THE STORY OF AB 

Regarding her kitchen appHances Red-Spot had 
a matron's justifiable pride. Not only was 
there the wood fire, into which, held on long, 
pointed sticks, could be thrust all sorts of 
meat for the somewhat smoky broiling, and 
the hot coals and ashes in which could be 
roasted the clams and the clay-covered fish, 
but there was the place for boiling, which only 
the more fortunate of the cave people owned. 
Her growing son had aided much in the 
attainment of this good housewife's fond de- 
sire. 

With much travail, involving all the force the 
cave family could muster and including the as- 
sistance of Oak's father and of Oak himself, 
who rejoiced with Ab in the proceedings, there 
had been rolled into the cave a huge sandstone 
rock with a top which was nearly flat. Here 
was to be the great pot, sometimes used as a 
roasting place, as well, which only the more 
pretentious of the caves could boast. On the 
middle of the big stone's uppermost surface old 
Mok chipped with an ax the outline of a rude 
circle some two feet in diameter. This de- 
fined roughly the size of the kettle to be made. 
Inside the circle, the sandstone must be dug 
out to a big kettle's proper depth, and upon 



DOINGS AT HOME lOg 

the boy, Ab, must devolve most of this health- 
ful but not over-attractive labor. 

The boy v^ent at the task gallantly, in the 
beginning, and pecked away with a stone 
chisel and gained a most respectable hollow 
within a day or two, but his enthusiasm sub- 
sided with the continuity of much effort with 
small result. He wanted more weight to his 
chisel of flint set firmly in reindeer's horn, and 
a greater impact to the blows into which could 
not be put the force resulting from a swing of 
arm. He thought much. Then he secured a 
long stick and bound his chisel strongly to it at 
one end, the top of the chisel resting against a 
projecting stub of limb, so that it could not be 
driven upward. To the other end of the stick 
he bound a stone of some pounds in weight 
and then, holding the shaft with both hands, 
lifted it and let the whole drop into the depres- 
sion he had already made. The flint chisel 
bit deeply under the heavy impact and the 
days were few before Ab had dug in the sand- 
stone rock a cavity which would hold much 
meat and water. There was an unconscious 
celebration when the big kettle was completed. 
It was nearly filled with water, and into the 
water were flung great chunks of the meat of a 



no THE STORY OF AB 

reindeer killed that day. Meanwhile, the cave 
fire had been replenished with dry wood and 
there had been formed a wide bed of coals, 
upon which were cast numerous stones of 
moderate size, which soon attained a shining 
heat. A sort of tongs made of green withes 
served to remove the stones, one after another, 
from the mass of coal, and drop them in with 
the meat and water. Within a little time the 
water was fairly boiling and soon there was a 
monster stew giving forth rich odors and ready 
to be eaten. And it was not allowed to get 
over-cool after that summoning fragrance had 
once extended throughout the cave. There 
was a rush for the clam shells which served 
for soup dishes or cups, there was spearing 
with sharpened sticks for pieces of the boiled 
meat, and all were satisfied, though there was 
shrill complaint from Bark, whose turn at the 
kettle came late, and much clamor from 
chubby Beech-leaf, who was not yet tall 
enough to help herself, but who was cared for 
by the mother. It may be that, to some 
people of to-day, the stew would be counted 
lacking in quality of seasoning, but an opinion 
upon seasoning depends largely upon the 
stomach and the time, and, besides, it may be 



DOINGS AT HOME I II 

that the dirt cHnging to the stones cast into 
the water gave a certain flavor as fine in its 
way as could be imparted by salt and pepper. 
Old Mok, observing silently, had decidedly 
approved of Ab's device for easier digging into 
sandstone than was the old manner of pecking 
away with a chisel held in the hand. He was 
almost disposed now to admit the big lad to 
something like a plane of equality in the work 
they did together. He became more affable 
in their converse, and the youth was, in the 
same degree, delighted and ambitious. They 
experimented with the stick and weight and 
chisel in accomplishing the difficult work of 
splitting from boulders the larger fragments of 
stone from which weapons were to be made, 
and learned that by heavy, steady pressure of 
the breast, thus augmented by heavy weight, 
they could fracture more evenly than by blow 
of stone, ax or hammer. They learned that 
two could work together in stone chipping and 
do better work than one. Old Mok would 
hold the forming weapon-head in one hand 
and the horn-hafted chisel in another, press- 
ing the blade close against the stone and at 
just such angle as would secure the result he 
sought, while Ab, advised as to the force of 



112 THE STORY OF AB 

each succeeding stroke, tapped lightly upon 
the chisel's head. Woe was it for the boy if 
once he missed his stroke and caught the old 
man's fingers! Very delicate became the chip- 
ping done by these two artists, and excellent 
beyond any before made were the axes and 
spearheads produced by what, in modern 
times, would have been known under the title 
of ^'Old Mok &Co." 

At this time, too, Ab took lessons in making 
all the varied articles of elk or reindeer horn 
and the drinking cups from the horns of urus 
and aurochs. Old Mok even went so far as to 
attempt teaching the youth something of carv- 
ing figures upon tusks and shoulder blades, 
but in this art Ab never greatly excelled. He 
was too much a creature of action. The bone 
needles used by Red-Spot in making skin gar- 
ments he could form readily enough and he 
made whistles for Bark and Beech-leaf, but 
his inclinations were all toward larger things. 
To become a fighter and a hunter remained 
his chief ambition. 

Rather keen, with light snows but nipping 
airs, were the winters of this country of the 
cave men, and there were articles of food es- 
sential to variety which were, necessarily, 



DOINGS AT HOME 1 13 

stored before the cold season came. There 
were roots which were edible and which could 
be dried, and there were nuts in abundance, 
beyond all need. Beechnuts and acorns were 
gathered in the autumn, the children at this 
time earning fully the right of home and food, 
and the stores were heaped in granaries dug 
into the cave's sides. Should the snow at any 
time fall too deeply for hunting — though such 
an occurrence was very rare — or should any 
other cause, such, for instance, as the appear- 
ance of the great cave tiger in the region, 
make the game scarce and hunting perilous, 
there was the recourse of nuts and roots and 
no danger of starvation. There was no fear 
of suffering from thirst. Man early learned to 
carry water in a pouch of skin and there were 
sometimes made rock cavities, after the man- 
ner of the cave kettle, where water could be 
stored for an emergency. Besieging wild 
beasts could embarrass but could not greatly 
alarm the family, for, with store of wood and 
food and water, the besieged could wait, and 
it was not well for the flesh-seeking quadruped 
to approach within a long spear-thrust's length 
of the cavern's narrow entrance. 

The winter following the establishment of 
8 



114 THE STORY OF AB 

Ab's real companionship with Old Mok, as it 
chanced, was not a hard one. There fell snow 
enough for tracking, but not so deeply as to 
incommode the hunter. There had been a 
wonderful nut-fall in the autumn and the cave 
was stored with such quantity of this food that 
there was no chance of real privation. The 
ice was clean upon the river and through the 
holes hacked with stone axes fish were dragged 
forth in abundance upon the rude bone and 
stone hooks, which served their purpose far 
better than when, in summer time, the line 
was longer and the fish escaped so often from 
the barbless implements. It was a great sea- 
son in all that made a cave family's life some- 
thing easy and complacent and vastly promotive 
of the social amenities and the advancement 
of art and literature — that is, they were not 
compelled to make any sudden raid on others 
to assure the means of subsistence, and there 
was time for the carving of bones and the tell- 
ing of strange stories of the past. The elders 
declared it one of the finest winters they had 
ever known. 

And so Old Mok and Ab worked well that 
winter and the youth acquired such wisdom 
that his casual advice to Oak when the two 



DOINGS AT HOME 115 

were out together was something worth hsten- 
ing to because of its confidence and ponderosity. 
Concerning flint scraper, drill, spearhead, ax 
or bone or wooden haft, there was, his talk 
would indicate, practically nothing for the boy 
to learn. That was his own opinion, though, 
as he grew older, he learned to modify it 
greatly. With his adviser he had made good 
weapons and some improvements; yet all this 
was nothing. It was destined that an acci- 
dental discovery should be his, the effect of 
which would be to change the cave man's rank 
among living things. But the youth, just 
now, was greatly content with himself. He 
was older and more modest when he made his 
great discovery. 

It was when the fire blazed out at night, 
when all had fed, when the tired people lay 
about resting, but not ready yet for sleep, and 
the story of the day's events was given, that 
Old Mok's ordinarily still tongue would some- 
times loosen and he would tell of what hap- 
pened when he was a boy, or of the strange 
tales which had been told him of the time long 
past, the times when the Shell and Cave 
people were one, times when there were mon- 
strous things abroad and life was hard to keep. 



Il6 THE STORY OF AB 

To all these legends the hearers listened won- 
deringly, and upon them afterward Ab and 
Oak would sometimes speculate together and 
question as to their truth. 



CHAPTER XII. 

OLD MOK's tales. 

It was worth while Hstening to Old Mok 
when he forgot himself and talked and became 
earnestly reminiscent in telling of what he had 
seen or had heard when he was young. One 
day there had been trouble in the cave, for Bark, 
left in charge, had neglected the fire and it had 
''gone out," and upon the return of his par- 
ents there had been blows and harsh lan- 
guage, and then much pivotal grinding to- 
gether of dry sticks before a new flame was 
gained, and it was only after the odor of 
cooked flesh filled the place and strong jaws 
were busy that the anger of One- Ear had 
abated and the group became a comfortable 
one. Ab had come in hungry and the value 
of fire, after what had happened, was brought 
to his mind forcibly. He laid himself down 
upon the cave's floor near Old Mok, who was 
fashioning a shaft of some sort, and, as he lay, 
poked his toes at Beechleaf, who chuckled 
and gurgled as she rolled about, never for a 

117 



Il8 THE STORY OF AB 

moment relinquishing a portion of the slender 
shin bone of a deer, upon the flesh of which 
the family had fed. It was a short piece but 
full of marrow, and the child sucked and 
mumbled away at it in utmost bliss. Ab 
thought, somehow, of how poor would have 
been the eating with the meat uncooked, and 
looked at his hands, still reddened — for it was 
he who had twisted the stick which made the 
fire again. "Fire is good!" he said to Mok. 

The old man kept his flint scraper going for 
a moment or two before he answered; then he 
grunted: 

''Yes, it's good if you don't get burned. 
I've been burned," and he thrust out an arm 
upon which appeared a cicatrice. 

Ab was interested. "Where did you get 
that.''" he queried. 

"Far from here, far beyond the black 
swamp and the red hills that are farther still. 
It was when I was strong. " 

"Tell me about it," said the youth. 

"There is a fire country," answered Old 
Mok, "away beyond the swamp and woods 
and the place of the big rocks. It is a 
wonderful place. The fire comes out of the 
ground in long sheets and it is always the 



OLD MOK'S TALES HQ 

same. The rain and the snow do not stop it. 
Do I not know? Have I not seen it.? Did I 
not get this scar going too near the flame and 
stumbHng and falHng against a hot rock almost 
within it.'' There is too much fire sometimes!" 

The old man continued: ''There are many 
places of fire. They are to the east and south. 
Some of the Shell People who have gone far 
down the river have seen them. But the one 
where I was burned is not so far away as 
they; it is up the river to the northwest." 

And Ab was interested and questioned Old 
Mok further about the strange region where 
flames came from the ground as bushes grow, 
and where snow or water did not make them 
disappear. He was destined, at a later day, 
to be very glad that he had learned the little 
that was told him. But to-night he was in- 
tent only on getting dll the tales he could 
from the veteran while he was in the mood. 
''Tell about the Shell People," he cried, "and 
who they are and where they came from. 
They are different from us." 

"Yes, they are different from us," said Old 
Mok, ' ' but there was a time, I have heard it 
told, when we were like them. The very old 
men say that their grandfathers told them 



I20 THE STORY OF AB 

that once there were only Shell People any- 
where in this country, the people who lived 
along the shores and who never hunted nor 
went far away from the little islands, because 
they were afraid of the beasts in the forests. 
Sometimes they would venture into the wood 
to gather nuts and roots, but they lived mostly 
on the fish and clams. But there came a 
time when brave men were born among them 
who said they would have more of the forest 
things, and that they would no longer stay 
fearfully upon the little islands. So they 
came into the forest and the Cave Men began. 
And I think this story true." 

** I think it is true," Old Mok continued, 
''because the Shell People, you can see, must 
have lived very long where they are now. 
Up and down the creek where they live and 
along other creeks there lie banks of earth 
which are very long and reach far back. 
And this is not really earth, but is all made 
up of shells and bones and stone spearheads 
and the things which lie about a Shell Man's 
place. I know, for I have dug into these long 
banks myself and have seen that of which I 
tell. Long, very long, must the Shell People 
have lived along the creeks and shores to 



OLD MOK'S TALES 121 

have made the banks of bones and shells so 

high." 

And Old Mok was right. They talk of us 
as the descendants of an Aryan race. Never 
from Aryan alone came the drifting, changing 
Western being of to-day. But a part of him 
was born where bald plains were or where 
were olive trees and roses. Ail modern science, 
and modern thoughtfulness, and all later 
broadened intelligence are yielding to an ad- 
mission of the fact that he, though of course 
commingling with his visitors of the ages, was 
born and changed where he now exists. The 
kitchen-midden — the name given by scientists 
to refuse from his dwelling places — the kitchen- 
middens of Denmark, as Denmark is to-day, 
alone, regardless of other fields, suffice to tell 
a wondrous story. Imagine a kitchen-mid- 
den, that is to say the detritus of ordinary 
living in different ages, accumulated along the 
side of some ancient water course, having for 
its dimensions miles in length, extending 
hundreds of yards back from the margin of 
this creek, of tens and tens of thousands of 
years ago, and having a depth of often many 
feet along this water course. Imagine this 
vast deposit telling the history of a thousand 



122 THE STORY OF AB 

centuries or more, beginning first with the de- 
posit of clams and mussel shells and of the 
shells of such other creatures as might in- 
habit this river seeking its way to the North 
Sea. Imagine this deposit increasing year 
after year and century by century, but chang- 
ing its character and quality as it rose, and 
the base is laid for reasoning. 

At first these creatures who ranged up and 
down the ancient Danish creek and devoured 
the clams and periwinkles must have been, as 
one might say, but little more than surely 
anthropoid. Could such as these have mi- 
grated from the Asiatic plateaus.-* 

The kitchen-middens tell the early story 
with greater accuracy than could any writer 
who ever lifted pen. Here the creek-loving, 
ape-like creatures ranged up and down and 
quelled their appetites. They died after they 
had begotten sons and daughters; and to 
these sons and daughters came an added in- 
telligence, brought from experience and shift- 
ing surroundings. The kitchen-middens give 
graphic details. The bottom layer, as has 
been said, is but of shells. Above it, in an- 
other layer, counting thousands of years in 
growth, appear the cracked bones of then 



OLD MOK'S TALES 123 

existing animals and appear also traces of 
charred wood, showing that primitive man 
had learned what fire was. And later come 
the rudely carved bones of the mammoth and 
woolly rhinoceros and the Irish elk; then come 
rude flint instruments, and later the age of 
smoothed stone, with all its accompanying 
fossils, bones and indications; and so on up- 
ward, with a steady sweep, until close to the 
surface of this kitchen-midden appear the 
bronze spear, the axhead and the rude dag- 
ger of the being who became the Druid and 
who is an ancestor whom we recognize. 
From the kitchen-midden to the pinnacle of 
all that is great to-day extends a chain not a 
link of which is weak. 

''They tell strange stories, too, the Shell 
People, " Old Mok continued, * ' for they are 
greater story-tellers than the Cave Men are, 
more of them being together in one place, and 
the old men always tell the tales to the chil- 
dren so that they are never forgotten by any 
of the people. They say that once huge 
things came out of the great waters and up 
the creeks, such as even the big cave tiger 
dare not face. And the old men say that 
their grandfathers once saw with their own 



124 THE STORY OF AB 

eyes a monster serpent many times as large 
as the one you two saw, which came swim- 
ming up the creek and seized upon the river 
horses there and devoured them as easily as 
the cave bear would a little deer. And the 
serpent seized upon some of the Cave People 
who were upon the water and devoured them 
as well, though such as they were but a 
mouthful to him. And this tale, too, I be- 
lieve, for the old Shell Men who told me what 
their grandfathers had seen were not of the 
foolish sort." 

*'But of another sort of story they have 
told me, " Mok continued, ''I think little. 
The old men tell of a time when those who 
went down the river to the greater river and 
followed it down to the sea, which seems to 
have no end, saw what no man can see 
to-day. But they do not say that their 
grandfathers saw these things. They only say 
that their grandfathers told of what had been 
told them by their grandfathers farther back, 
of a story which had come down to them, so 
old that it was older than the great trees 
were, of monstrous things which swam along 
the shores and which were not serpents, 
though they had long necks and serpent heads, 



OLD MOK'S TALES 125 

because they had great bodies which were 
driven by flippers through the water as the 
beaver goes with his broad feet. And at the 
same time, the old story goes, were great 
birds, far taller than a man, who fed where 
now the bustards and the capercailzie are. 
And these tales I do not believe, though I 
have seen bones washed from the riversides 
and hillsides by the rains which must have 
come from creatures different from those we 
meet now in the forests or the waters. They 
are wonderful story-tellers, the old men of the 
Shell People." 

^' And they tell other strange stories," con- 
tinued the old man. **They say that very long 
ago the cold and ice came down, and all the 
people and animals fled before it, and that the 
summer was cold as now the winter is, and 
that the men and beasts fled together to the 
south, and were there for a long time, but 
came back again as the cold and ice went 
back. They say, too, that in still later times, 
the fireplaces where the flames came out of 
great cracks in the earth were in tens of 
places where they are in one now, and that, 
even in the ice time, the flames came up, and 
that the ice was melted and then ran in rivers 



126 THE STORY OF AB 

to the sea. And these things I do not beheve, 
for how can men tell of what there was so 
long ago? They are but the gabblings of the 
old, who talk so much." 

Many other stories the veteran told, but 
what most affected Ab was his account of the 
vale of fire. He hoped to see it sometime. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

ab's great discovery. 

It may be that never in what was destined 
to be a Hfe of many changes was Ab happier 
than in this period of his lusty boyhood and 
early manhood, when there was so much that 
was new, when he was full of hope and con- 
fidence and of ambition regarding what a 
mighty hunter and great man he would be- 
come in time. As the years passed he was 
not less indefatigable in his experiments, and 
the day came when a marvelous success fol- 
lowed one of them, although, like most inven- 
tions, it was suggested in the most trivial and 
accidental manner. 

It chanced one afternoon that Ab, a young 
man of twenty now, had returned early from 
the wood and was lying lazily upon the sward 
near the cave's entrance, while, not far away, 
Bark and the still chubby Beechleaf were 
rolling about. The boy was teasing the girl 
at times and then doing something to amuse 
or awe her. He had found a stiff length of 
twig and was engaged in idly bending the ends 

127 



128 THE STORY OF AB 

together and then letting them fly apart with 
a snap, meanwhile advancing toward and 
threatening with the impact the half-alarmed 
but wholly delighted Beechleaf. Tired of this, 
at last. Bark, with no particular intent, drew 
forth from the pouch in his skin cloak a string 
of sinew, and drawing the ends of the strong 
twig somewhat nearly together, attached the 
cord to each, thus producing accidentally a 
petty bow of most rotund proportions. He 
found that the string twanged joyously, and, to 
the delight of Beechleaf, kept twanging it for 
such time as his boyish temperament would 
allow a single occupation. Then he picked 
from the ground a long, slender pencil of 
white wood, a sliver, perhaps, from the mak- 
ing of a spear shaft, and began strumming 
with it upon the taut sinew string. This made 
a twang of a new sort, and again the boy and 
girl were interested temporarily. But, at last, 
even this variation of amusement with the 
new toy became monotonous, and Bark ceased 
strumming and began a series of boyish ex- 
periments with his plaything. He put one 
end of the stick against the string and pushed 
it back until the other end would press against 
the inside of the twig, and the result would be a 



AB'S GREAT DISCOVERY 129 

taut, new figure in wood and string which would 
keep its form even when laid upon the ground. 
Bark made and unmade the thing a time or 
two, and then came great disaster. He had 
drawn the little stick, so held in the way we 
now call arrowwise, back nearly to the point 
where its head would come inside the bent 
twig and there fix itself, when the slight thing 
escaped his hands and flew away. 

The quiet of the afternoon was broken by a 
piercing childish yell which lacked no element 
of earnestness. Ab leaped to his feet and 
was by the youngsters in a moment. He saw 
the terrified Beechleaf standing, screaming 
still, with a fat arm outheld, from which 
dangled a little shaft of wood which had 
pierced the flesh just deeply enough to give it 
hold. Bark stood looking at her, astonished 
and alarmed. Understanding nothing of the 
circumstances, and supposing the girl's hurt 
came from Bark's careless flinging of sticks 
toward her, Ab started toward his brother to 
administer one of those buffets which were 
so easy to give or get among cave children. 
But Bark darted behind a convenient tree and 
there shrieked out his innocence of dire intent, 
just as the boy of to-day so fluently defends 
9 



I30 THE STORY OF AB 

himself in any strait where castigation looms 
in sight. He told of the queer plaything he 
had made, and offered to show how all had 
happened. 

Ab was doubtful but laughing now, for the 
little shaft, which had scarcely pierced the 
skin of Beechleaf's arm had fallen to the 
ground and that young person's fright had 
given way to vengeful indignation and she was 
demanding that Bark be hit with something. 
He allowed the sinner to give his proof. Bark, 
taking his toy, essayed to show how Beechleaf 
had been injured. He was the most unfortu- 
nate of youths. He succeeded but too well. 
The mimic arrow flew again and the sound 
that rang out now was not the cry of a child. 
It was the yell of a great youth, who felt a 
sudden and poignant hurt, and who was not 
maintaining any dignity. Had Bark been as 
sure of hand and certain of aim as any archer 
who lived in later centuries he could not have 
sent an arrow more fairly to its mark than he 
sent that admirable sliver into the chest of his 
big brother. For a second the culprit stood 
with staring eyes, then dropped his toy and 
flew into the forest with a howl which beto- 



AB'S GREAT DISCOVERY 131 

kened his fear of something little less than 
sudden death. 

Ab's first impulse was to pursue his sinful 
younger brother, but, after the first leap, he 
checked himself and paused to pluck away 
the thing which, so light the force that had 
impelled it, had not gone deeply in. He 
knew now that Bark was really blameless, and, 
picking up the abandoned plaything, began 
its examination thoughtfully and curiously. 

The young man's instinct toward experiment 
exhibited itself as usual and he put the splinter 
against the string and drew it back and let it 
fly as he had seen Bark do — that promising 
sprig, by the way, being now engaged in peer- 
ing from the wood and trying to form an esti- 
mate as to whether or not his return was yet 
advisable. Ab learned that the force of the 
bent twig would throw the sliver farther than 
he could toss it with his hand, and he won- 
dered what would follow were something like 
this plaything, the device of which Bark had 
so stumbled upon, to be made and tried on a 
greater scale. ''I'll make one like it, only 
larger," he said to himself. 

The venturesome but more or less diplomatic 
Bark had, by this time, emerged from the 



132 THE STORY OF AB 

wood and was apprehensively edging up to- 
ward the place where Ab was standing. The 
older brother saw him and called to him to 
come and try the thing again and the young- 
ster knew that he was safe. Then the two 
toyed with the plaything for an hour or two 
and Ab became more and more interested in 
its qualities. He had no definite idea as to its 
possibilities. He thought only of it as a cu- 
rious thing which should be larger. 

The next day Ab hacked from a low-limbed 
tree a branch as thick as his finger and about 
a yard in length, and, first trimming it, bent 
it as Bark had bent the twig and tied a strong 
sinew cord across. It was a not discreditable 
bow, considering the fact that it was the first 
ever made, though one end was smaller than 
the other and it was rough of outline. Then 
Ab cut a straight willow twig, as long nearly 
as the bow, and began repeating the experi- 
ments of the day before. Never was man 
more astonished than this youth after he had 
drawn the twig back nearly to its head and 
let it go! 

So drawn by a strong arm, the shaft when 
released flew faster and farther than the maker 
of what he thought of chiefly as a thing of 



AB'S GREAT DISCOVERY 133 

Sport had imagined could be possible. He 
had long to search for the headless arrow and 
when he found it he went away to where were 
bare open stretches, that he might see always 
where it fell. Once as he sent it from the 
string it struck fairly against an oak and, 
pointless as it was, forced itself deeply into 
the hard brown bark and hung there quivering. 
Then came to the youth a flash of thought 
which had its effect upon the ages: ''What 
if there had been a point to the flying thing 
and it had struck a reindeer or any of the 
hunted animals?" 

He pulled the shaft from the tree and stood 
there pondering for a moment or two, then 
suddenly started running toward the cave. 
He must see Old Mok! 

The old man was at work and alone and 
the young man told him, somewhat excitedly, 
why he had thus come running to him. The 
elder listened with some patience but with a 
commiserating grin upon his face. He had 
heard young men tell of great ideas before, of 
a new and better way of digging pits, or of 
fishing, or making deadfalls for wild beasts. 
But he listened and yielded finally to Ab's 
earnest demand that he should hobble out into 



134 THE STORY OF AB 

the open and see with his own eyes how the 
strung bow would send the shaft. They went 
together to an open space, and again and again 
Ab showed to his old friend what the new 
thing would do. With the second shot there 
came a new light into the eyes of the veteran 
hunter and he bade Ab run to the cave and 
bring back with him his favorite spear. The 
young man was back as soon as strong legs 
could bring him, and when he burst into the 
open he found Mok standing a long spear's 
cast from the greatest of the trees which stood 
about the opening. 

''Throw your spear at the tree," said Mok. 
*' Throw strongly as you can." 

Ab hurled the spear as the Zulu of later 
times might hurl his assagai, as strongly and 
as well, but the distance was overmuch for 
spear throwing with good effect, and the flint 
point pierced the wood so lightly that the 
weight of the long shaft was too great for the 
holding force and it sank slowly to the ground 
and pulled away the head. A wild beast 
struck by the spear at such distance would 
have been sorely pricked, but not hurt seri- 
ously. 

''Now take the plaything," said Old Mok, 



AB'S GREAT DISCOVERY 135 

"and throw the little shaft at the tree with 
that." 

Ab did as he was told, and, poor marksman 
with his new device, of course missed the big 
tree repeatedly, broad as the mark was, but 
when, at last, the bolt struck the hard trunk 
fairly there was a sound which told of the 
sharpness of the blow and the headless shaft 
rebounded back for yards. Old Mok looked 
upon it all delightedly. 

"It may be there is something to your play- 
thing, " he said to the young man. "We will 
make a better one. But your shaft is good 
for nothing. We will make a straighter and 
stronger one and upon the end of it will put a 
little spearhead, and then we can tell how 
deeply it will go into the wood. We will 
work." 

For days the two labored earnestly together, 
and when they came again into the open they 
bore a stronger bow, one tapered at the end op- 
posite the natural tapering of the branch, so that 
it was far more flexible and symmetrical than 
the one they had tried before. They had 
abundance of ash and yew and these remained 
the good bow wood of all the time of archery. 
And the shaft was straight and bore a minia- 



136 THE STORY OF AB 

ture spearhead at its end. The thought of 
notching the shaft to fit the string came natu- 
rally and inevitably. The bow had its first 
arrow. 

An old man is not so easily affected as a 
young one, nor so hopeful, but when the 
second test was done the veteran Mok was the 
wilder and more delighted of the two who shot 
at the tree in the forest glade. He saw it all! 
No longer could the spear be counted as the 
thing with which to do most grievous hurt at 
a safe distance from whatever might be dan- 
gerous. With the better bow and straighter 
shaft the marksmanship improved; even for 
these two callow archers it was not difficult to 
hit at a distance of a double spear's cast the 
bole of the huge tree, two yards in width at 
least. And the arrow whistled as if it were a 
living thing, a hawk seeking its prey, and the 
flint head was buried so deeply in the wood 
that both Mok and Ab knew that they had 
found something better than any weapon the 
cave men had ever known! 

There followed many days more of the 
eager working of the old man and the young 
one in the cave, and there was much testing 
of the new device, and finally, one morning. 



AB'S GREAT DISCOVERY I37 

Ab issued forth armed with his ax and knife, 
but without his spear. He bore, instead, a 
bow which was the best and strongest the two 
had yet learned to fashion, and a sheaf of 
arrows slung behind his back in a quiver made 
of a hollow section of a mammoth's leg bone 
which had long been kicked about the cave. 
The two workers had drilled holes in the bone 
and passed thongs through and made a wooden 
bottom to the thing and now it had found its 
purpose. The bow was rude, as were the 
arrows, and the archer was not yet a certain 
marksman, though he had practiced diligently, 
but the bow was stiff, at least, and the arrows 
had keen heads of flint and the arms of the 
hunter were strong as was the bow. 

There was a weary and fruitless search for 
game, but late in the afternoon the youth 
came upon a slight, .sheer descent, along the 
foot of which ran a shallow but broad creek, 
beyond which was a little grass-grown valley, 
where were feeding a fine herd of the little 
deer. They were feeding in the direction of 
the creek and the wind blew from them to the 
hunter, so that no rumor of their danger was 
carried to them on the breeze. Ab concealed 
himself among the bushes on the little height 



138 THE STORY OF AB 

and awaited what might happen. The herd 
fed slowly toward him. 

As the deer neared the creek they grouped 
themselves together about where were the 
greenest and richest feeding-places, and when 
they reached the very border of the stream 
they were gathered in a bunch of half a hun- 
dred, close together. They were just beyond 
a spear's cast from the watcher, but this was 
a test, not of the spear, but of the bow, and 
the most inexperienced of archers, shooting 
from where Ab was hidden, must strike some 
one of the beasts in that broad herd. Ab 
sprang to his feet and drew his arrow to the 
head. The deer gathered for a second in 
affright, crowding each other before the wild 
bursting away together, and then the bow- 
string twanged, and the arrow sang hungrily, 
and there was the swift thud of hundreds of 
light feet, and the little glade was almost 
silent. It was not quite silent, for, flounder- 
ing in its death struggles, was a single deer, 
through which had passed an arrow so fiercely 
driven that its flint head projected from the 
side opposite that which it had entered. 

Half wild with triumph was the youth who 
bore home the arrow-stricken quarry, and not 



AB'S GREAT DISCOVERY ^ I39 

much more elated was he than the old man, 
who heard the story of the hunt, and who 
recognized, at once far more clearly than 
the younger one, the quality of the new 
weapon which had been discovered; the thing 
destined to become the greatest implement 
both of chase and warfare for thousands of 
years to come, and which was to be gradually 
improved, even by these two, until it became 
more to them than they could yet understand. 
But the lips of each of the two makers of 
the bow were sealed for the time. Ab and 
Old Mok cherished together their mighty 
secret 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A LESSON IN SWIMMING. 

Ab and Oak, ranging far in their hunting 
expeditions, had, long since, formed the ac- 
quaintance of the Shell People, and had even 
partaken of their hospitality, though there 
was not much to attract a guest in the abodes 
of the creek-haunters. Their homes were 
but small caves, not much more than deep 
burrows, dug here and there in the banks, 
above high water mark, and protected from 
wild beasts by the usual heaped rocks, leaving 
only a narrow passage. This insured warmth 
and comparative safety, but the homes lacked 
the spaciousness of the caves and caverns of 
the hills, and the food of fish and clams and 
periwinkles, with flesh and fruit but seldom 
gained, had little attraction for the occasional 
cave visitor. Ab and Oak would sometimes 
traffic with the Shell People, exchanging some 
creature of the land for a product of the 
water, but they made brief stay in a locality 
where the food and odors were not quite to 

140 



A LESSON IN SWIMMING 141 

their accustomed taste. Yet the settlement had 
a slight degree of interest to them. They had 
noted the buxom quality of some of the Shell 
maidens, and the two had now attained an age 
when a bright-eyed young person of the other 
sex was agreeable to look upon. But there 
had been no love passages. Neither of the 
youths was yet so badly stricken. 

There came an autumn morning when Ab 
and Oak, who had met at daybreak, deter- 
mined to visit the Shell People and go with 
them upon a fishing expedition. The Shell 
People often fished from boats, and the boats 
were excellent. Each consisted of four or 
five short logs of the most buoyant wood, 
bound firmly together with tough withes, but 
the contrivance was more than a simple raft, 
because, at the bow, it had been hewed to a 
point, and the logs h^d been so chosen that 
each curved upward there. It had been 
learned that the waves sometimes encountered 
could so more easily be cleft or overridden. 
None of these boats could sink, and the man 
of the time was quite at home in the water. 
It was fun for the young men whose tale is 
told here to go with the Shell People and 
assist in spearing fish or drawing them from 



142 THE STORY OF AB 

the river's depths upon rude hooks, and the 
Shell People did not object, but were rather 
proud of the attendance of representatives of 
the hillside aristocracy. 

The morning was one to make men far 
older than these two most confident and full 
of life. The season was late, though the 
river's waters were not yet cold. The mast 
had already begun to fall and the nuts lay 
thickly among the leaves. Every morning, 
and more regularly than it comes now, there 
was a spread of glistening hoar frost upon the 
lowlands and the little open lands in the 
forest and upon every spot not tree-protected. 
At such times there appeared to the eyes of 
the cave people the splendor of nature such 
as we now can hardly comprehend. It came 
most strikingly in spring and autumn, and was 
something wonderful. The cave men, prob- 
ably, did not appreciate it. They were accus- 
tomed to it, for it was part of the record of 
every 3^ear. Doubtless there came a greater 
vigor to them in the keen air of the hoar frost 
time, doubtless the step of each was made 
more springy and each man's valor more de- 
fined in this choice atmosphere. Temperate, 
with a wonderful keenness to it, was the 



A LESSON IN SWIMMING 143 

climate of the cave region in the valley of the 
present Thames. Even in the days of the 
cave men, the Gulf Stream, swinging from the 
equator in the great warm current already 
formed, laved the then peninsula as it now 
laves the British Isles. The climate, as has 
been told, was almost as equable then as 
now, but with a certain crispness which was 
a heritage from the glacial epoch. It was a 
time to live in, and the two were merry on 
their journey in the glittering morning. 

The young men idled on their way and 
wasted an hour or two in vain attempts to 
approach a feeding deer nearly enough for 
effective spear-throwing. They were late 
when, after swimming the creek, they reached 
the Shell village and there learned that the 
party had already gone. They decided that 
they might, perhaps, overtake the fishermen, 
and so, with the hunter's easy lope, started 
briskly down the river bank. They were not 
destined to fish that day. 

Three or four miles had been passed and a 
straight stretch of the river had been attained, 
at the end of which, a mile away, could be 
seen the boats of the Shell People, to be lost 
to sight a moment later as they swept around 



144 THE STORY OF AB 

a bend. But there was something else in 
sight. Perched comfortably upon a rock, the 
sides of which were so precipitous that they 
afforded a foothold only for human beings, 
was a young woman of the Shell People who 
had before attracted Ab's attention and some- 
thing of his admiration. She was fishing dili- 
gently. She had been left by the fishing 
party, to be taken up on their return, because, 
in the rush of waters about the base of the 
rock, was a haunt of a small fish esteemed 
particularly, and because the girl was one of 
the little tribe's adepts with hook and line. 
She raised her eyes as she heard the patter of 
footsteps upon the shore, but did not exhibit 
any alarm when she saw the two young men. 
The ordinary young woman of the Shell Peo- 
ple did not worry when away from land. She 
could swim like an otter and dive like a loon, 
and of wild beasts she had no fear when she 
was thus safely bestowed away from the death- 
harboring forest. The maiden on the rock 
was most serene. 

The young men called to her, but she made 
no answer. She but fished away demurely, 
from time to time hauling up a flashing finny 
thing, which she calmly bumped on the rock 



A LESSON IN SWIMMING 145 

and then tossed upon the silvery heap, which 
had already assumed fair dimensions, close 
behind her. As Ab looked upon the young 
fisherwoman his interest in her grew rapidly 
and he was silent, though Oak called out 
taunting words and asked her if she could not 
talk. It was not this young woman, but an- 
other, who had most pleased Oak among the 
girls of the Shell People. 

It was not love yet with Ab, but the maiden 
interested him. He held no defined wish to 
carry her away to a new home with him, but 
there arose a feeling that he wanted to be 
closer to her and catch her in his arms, and 
hear her cries and words, and then — no know- 
ing what might come. 

"I'll swim to the rock!" he said to his com- 
panion, and Oak laughed loudly. 

Short time elapsed between decision and 
action in those days, ' and hardly had Ab 
spoken when he flung his fur covering into the 
hands of Oak, and, clad only in the clout 
about his hips, dropped, with a splash, into 
the water. All this time the girl had been 
eyeing every motion closely. As the little 
waves rose laughingly about the man, she de- 
scended lightly from her perch and slid into 

10 



14^ THE STORY OF AB 

the stream as easily and silently as a beaver 
might have done. And then began a chase. 
The girl, finding mid-current swiftly, was a 
full hundred yards ahead as Ab came fairly in 
her wake. 

A splendid swimmer was the stalwart young 
man of the hills. He had been in and out of 
water almost daily since early childhood, and, 
though there had never been a test, was con- 
fident that, among all the Shell People, there 
were none he could not overtake, despite 
what he had heard and knew of their wonder- 
ful cleverness in the water. Were not his 
arms and legs longer and stronger than theirs 
and his chest deeper ? He felt that he could 
outswim easily any bold fisherman among 
them, and as for this girl, he would overtake 
her very quickly and draw her to the bank, 
and then there would be an interview of much 
enjoyment, at least to him. His strong arm 
swept the water back, and his strong legs, 
working with them, drove his body forward 
swiftly toward the brown object not very far 
ahead. Along the bank ran the laughing and 
shouting Oak. 

Yard by yard, Ab's mighty strokes brought 
him nearer the object of his pursuit. She 



A LESSON IN SWIMMING 147 

was swimming breast forward, as was he — for 
that was his only way — she with a dog-Hke 
paddhng stroke, and often she turned her 
head to look backward at the man. She did 
not, even yet, appear affrighted, and this Ab 
wondered at, for it was seldom that a girl of 
the time, thus hunted, was not, and with 
reason, terrified. She, possibly, understood 
that the chase did not involve a real abduc- 
tion, for she and her pursuer had often met, 
but there was, at least, reason enough for 
avoiding too close contact on this day. She 
swam on steadily, and, as steadily, Ab gained 
upon her. 

Down the long stretch of tumbling river, 
sweeping eastward between hill and slope and 
plain and woodland, went the chase, while 
the panting and cheering Oak, strong-legged 
and enduring as he w^as, barely kept pace with 
the two heads he could see bobbing, not far 
apart now, in the tossing waters. Ab had 
long since forgotten Oak. He had forgotten 
how it was that he came to be thus swimming 
in the river. His thought was only what now 
made up an overmastering aim. He must 
reach and seize upon the girl before him! 

Closer and closer, though she as much as 



148 THE STORY OF AB 

he was aided by the swift current, the young 
man approached the girl. The hundred yards 
had lessened into tens and he could plainly 
see now the wake about her and the occasional 
up-flip of her brown heels as she went high in 
her stroke. He now felt easily assured of her 
and laughed to himself as he swept his arms 
backward in a fiercer stroke and came so close 
that he could discern her outline through the 
water. It was but a matter of endurance, he 
chuckled to himself. How could a woman 
outswim a man like him? 

It was just at the time when this thought 
came that Ab saw the Shell girl lift her head 
and turn it toward him and laugh — laugh 
recklessly, almost in his very face, so close 
together were they now. And then she taught 
him something! There was a dip such as the 
otter makes when he seeks the depths and 
there was no longer a girl in sight! But this 
was only a demonstration, made in sheer au- 
dacity and blithesome insolence, for the brown 
head soon appeared again some yards ahead 
and there was another twist of it and another 
merry laugh. Then the neat body turned 
upon its side, and with quick outdriving leg- 
strokes and the overhand and underhand pull- 



A LESSON IN SWIMMING I49 

ing-forward which modern swimmers partly 
know, the girl shot ahead through the tiny 
white-capped waves and away from the swim- 
mer so close behind her, as to-day the cutter 
leaves the scow. From the river bank came 
a wild yelp, the significance of which, if anal- 
ized, might have included astonishment and 
great delight and brotherly derision. Oak was 
having a great day of it! He was the sole 
witness of a swimming-match the like of which 
was rare, and he was getting even with his 
friend for various assumptions of superiority in 
various doings. 

Unexhausted and sturdy and stubborn, Ab 
was not the one to abandon his long chase 
because of this new phase of things. He in- 
haled a great breath and made the water foam 
with his swift strokes, but as well might a wild 
goose chase a swallow on the wing as he seek 
to overtake that brown streak on the water. 
It was wonderful, the manner in which that 
Shell girl swam! She was like the birds which 
swim and dive and dip, and know of nothing 
which they fear if only they are in the water 
far enough away from where there is the need 
of stalking over soil and stone. It was not 
that the Shell girl was other than at home on 



ISO THE STORY OF AB 

land. She was quite at home there and rea- 
sonably fleet, but the creek and river had so 
been her element from babyhood that the 
chase of the hill man had been, from the 
start, a sheer absurdity. 

Ab lifted himself in the waters and gazed 
upon the dark spot far away, and, piqued and 
maddened, put forth all the swimming strength 
there was left in his brawny body. It seemed 
for a brief time that he was almost equal to 
the task of gaining upon what was little more 
than a dot upon the surface far ahead. But 
his scant prospect of success was only momen- 
tary. The trifling spot in the distant drifts of 
the river seemed to have certain ideas of its 
own. The speed of its course in the water did 
not abate and, in a moment, it was carried 
around the bend, and lost to sight. Ab drifted 
to the turn and saw, below, a girl clambering 
into safety among the rafts of the fishing Shell 
People. What she would tell them he did 
not know. That was not a matter to be much 
considered. 

There was but one thing to be done and 
that was to reach the land and return to a life 
more strictly earthly and more comfortable. 
There is nothing like water for overcoming a 



A LESSON IN SWIMMING 151 

young man's fancy for many things. Ab 
swam now with a somewhat tired and languid 
stroke to the shore, where Oak awaited him 
hilariously. They almost came to blows that 
afternoon, and blows between such as they 
might have easily meant sudden death. But 
they were not rivals yet and there was much 
to talk of good-naturedly, after some slight 
outflamings of passion on the part of Ab, and 
the two men were good friends again. 

The sum of all the day was that there had 
been much exercise and fun, for Oak at least. 
Ab had not caught the Shell girl, manfully as 
he had striven. Had he caught her and 
talked with her upon the river bank it might 
have changed the current of his life. With a 
man so young and sturdy and so full of life 
the laughing fancy of a moment might have 
changed into a stronger feeling and the swim- 
ming girl might have become a woman of the 
cave people, one not quite so equal by heritage 
to the task of breeding good climbing and run- 
ning and fighting and progressive beings as 
some girl of the hills. 

It matters little what might have happened 
had the outcome of the day's effort been the 
reverse of what it was. This is but the account 



152 THE STORY OF AB 

of the race and what the sequel was when Ab 
swam so far and furiously and well. It was 
his first flirtation. It was yet to come to him 
that he should be really in love in the cave 
man's way 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE MAMMOTH AT BAY. 

It was late autumn, and a light snow 
covered the ground, when one day a cave 
man, panting for breath, came running down 
the river bank and paused at the cave of One- 
Ear. He had news, great news! He told 
his story hurriedty, and then was taken into 
the cave and given meat, while Ab, seizing 
his weapons, fled downward further still to- 
ward the great kitchen-midden of the Shell 
People. Just as ages and ages later, not far 
from the same region, some Scottish runner 
carried the fiery cross, Ab ran exultingly with 
the news it was his to bring. There must be 
an immediate gathering, not only of the cave 
men, but of the Shell People as well, and 
great mutual effort for great gain. The mam- 
moths were near the point of the upland! 

The runner to the cave of One-Ear was a 
hunter living some miles to the north, upon a 
ledge of a broad forest-covered plateau ter- 
minating on the west in a slope which ended 

153 



154 THE STORY OF AB 

in a precipice with more than a hundred feet 
of sheer descent to the valley below. On 
rare occasions a herd of mammoths invaded 
the forest and worked itself toward the apex 
of the plateau, and then word went all over 
the region, for it was an event in the history 
of the cave men. If but a sufficient force 
could be suddenly assembled, food in abun- 
dance for all was almost certainly assured. 
The prize was something stupendous, but 
prompt action was required, and there might 
be tragedies. As bees hum and gather when 
their hive is disturbed, so did the Shell People 
when Ab burst in upon them and delivered 
his message. There was rushing about and 
a gathering of weapons and a sorting out of 
men who should go upon the expedition. But 
little time was wasted. Within half an hour 
Ab was straining back again up the river 
toward his own abode, while behind him 
trailed half a hundred of the Shell People, 
armed in a way effective enough, but which, 
in the estimation of the cave men, was pre- 
posterous. The spears of the Shell People 
had shafts of different wood and heads of 
different material from those of the cave men, 
and they used their weapons in a different 



THE MAMMOTH AT BAY I55 

manner. Accustomed to the spearing of fish 
or of an occasional water beast, like a small 
hippopotamus, which still existed in the rivers 
of the peninsula, they always threw their 
spears — though the cave people were experts 
with this as well — and, as a last resource in 
close conflict, they used no stone ax or mace, 
but simply ran away, to throw again from a 
distance, or to fly again, as conditions made 
advisable. But they were brave in a way — 
it was necessary that all who would live must 
have a certain animal bravery in those days — 
and their numbers made them essential in the 
rare hunting of the mammoth. 

When the company reached the home of 
Ab they found already assembled there a score 
of the hill men, and, as the word had gone 
out in every direction, it was found, when the 
rendezvous was reached, which was the cave 
of Hilltop, the man living near the crest of 
the plateau, and the one who had made the 
first run down the river, that there were more 
than a hundred, counting all together, to 
advance against the herd and, if possible, 
drive the great beasts toward the precipice. 
Among this hundred there was none more de- 
lighted than Ab and Oak, for, of course, these 



156 THE STORY OF AB 

two had found each other in the group, and 
were almost hke a brace of dogs whining for 
the danger and the hunt. 

Not Hghtly was an expedition against a 
herd of mammoths to be begun, even by a 
hundred well-armed people of the time of the 
cave men. The mammoth was a monster 
beast, with perhaps somewhat less of saga- 
ciousness than the modern elephant, but with 
a temper which was demoniacal when aroused, 
and with a strength which nothing could resist. 
He could be slain only by strategy. Hence 
the everlasting watch over the triangular 
plateau and the gathering of the cave and 
river people to catch him at a disadvantage. 
But, even with a drove feeding near the slope 
which led to the precipice, the cave men 
would have been helpless without the intro- 
duction of other elements than their weapons 
and their clamor. The mammoth paid no 
more attention to the cave man with a spear 
than to one of the little wild horses which 
fed near him at times. The pygmy did not 
alarm him, but did the pygmy ever venture 
upon an attack, then it was likely to be seized 
by the huge trunk and flung against rock or 
tree, to fall crushed and mangled, or else it 



THE MAMMOTH AT BAY 157 

was trodden viciously under foot. From one 
thing, though, the mammoth, huge as he was, 
would flee in terror. He could not face the 
element of fire, and this the cave men had 
learned to their advantage. They could drive 
the mammoth when they dare not venture to 
attack him, and herein lay their advantage. 

Under direction of the veteran hunter. Hill- 
top, who had discovered the whereabouts of 
the drove, preparations were made for the 
dangerous advance, and the first thing done 
was the breaking off of dry roots of the over- 
turned pitch pines, and gathering of knots of 
the same trees, with limbs attached, to serve 
as handles. These roots and knots, once 
lighted, would blaze for hours and made the 
most perfect of natural torches. Lengths of 
bark of certain other trees when bound together 
and lighted at one end burned almost as long 
and brightly as the rciots and knots. Each 
man carried an unlighted torch of one kind or 
another, in addition to his weapons, and when 
this provision was made the band was stretched 
out in a long line and a silent advance began 
through the forest. The herd of mammoths 
was composed of nineteen, led by a monster 
even of his kind, and men who had been 



15^ THE STORY OF AB 

watching them all night and during the fore- 
noon said that the herd was feeding very near 
the edge of the wood, where it ended on the 
slope leading to the precipice. There was ice 
upon the slope and there were chances of a 
great day's hunting. To cut off the mam- 
moths, that is, to extend a line across the up- 
rising peninsula where they were feeding, 
would require a line of not more than about 
five hundred yards in length, and as there 
were more than a hundred of the hunters, the 
line which could be formed would be most 
effective. Lighted punk, which preserved lire 
and gave forth no odor to speak of, was car- 
ried by a number of the men, and the advance 
began. 

It had been an exhilarating scene when the 
cave men and Shell People first assembled 
and when the work of gathering material for 
the torches was in progress. So far was the 
gathering from the present haunt of the game 
that caution had been unnecessary, and there 
was talk and laughter and all the open enjoy- 
ment of an anticipated conquest. The light 
snow, barely covering the ground, flashed in 
the sun, and the hunters, practically imper- 
vious to the slight cold, were almost prankish 



THE MAMMOTH AT BAY 159 

in their demeanor. Ab and Oak especially 
were buoyant, This was the first hunt upon 
the rocky peninsula of either of them, and 
they were delighted with the new surround- 
ings and eager for the fray to come. All 
about was talk and laughter, which became 
general with any slight physical disaster which 
came to one among the hunters in the climb- 
ing of some tree for a promising dead branch 
or finding a treacherous hollow when assailing 
the roots of some upturned pine. It was a 
brisk scene and a lively one, that which oc- 
curred that crisp morning in late autumn 
when the wild men gathered to hunt the 
mammoth. All was brightness and jollity and 
noise. 

Very different, in a moment, was the condi- 
tion when the hunters entered the forest and, 
extended in line, began their advance toward 
the huge objects of tHeir search. The cave 
man, almost a wild beast himself in some of 
his ways, had, on occasion, a footfall as light 
as that of any animal of the time. The twig 
scarcely crackled and the leaf scarcely rustled 
beneath his tread, and when the long line en- 
tered the wood the silence of death fell there, 
for the hunters made no sound, and what 



l6o THE STORY OF AB 

slight sound the woodland had before — the 
clatter of the woodpeckers and jays — was 
hushed by their advance. So through the 
forest, which was tolerably close, the dark 
line swept quietly forward until there came 
from somewhere a sudden signal, and with a 
still more cautious advance and contraction of 
the line as the peninsula narrowed the quarry 
was brought in sight of all. 

Close to the edge of the slope, and separated 
by a slight open space from the forest proper, 
was an evergreen grove, in which the herd of 
monster beasts was feeding. A great bull, 
with long up-curling tusks, loomed above 
them all, and was farthest away in the grove. 
The hunters, hidden in the forest, lay voice- 
less and motionless until the elders decided 
upon a plan of attack, and then the word was 
passed along that each man must fire his 
torch. 

All along the edge of the wood arose the 
flashing of little flames. These grew in mag- 
nitude until a line of fire ran clear across the 
wood, and the mammoths nearest raised their 
trunks and showed signs of uneasiness. Then 
came a signal, a wild shout, and at once, with 
a yell, the long Hne burst into the open, each 



THE MAMMOTH AT BAY l6l 

man waving his flaming torch and rushing to- 
ward the grove. 

There was a chance — a slight one— that the 
whole herd might be stampeded, but this had 
rarely happened within the memory of the 
oldest hunter. The mammoth, though subject 
to panic, did not lack intelligence and when 
in a group was conscious of its strength. As 
that yell ascended, the startled beasts first 
rushed deeper into the grove and then, as the 
slope beyond was revealed to them, turned 
and charged blindly, all save one, the great 
tusker, who was feeding at the grove's outer 
verge. They came on, great mountains of 
flesh, but swerved as they met the advancing 
line of fire and weaved aimlessly up and down 
for a moment or two. Then a huge bull, stung 
by a spear hurled by one of the hunters and 
frantic with fear, plunged forward across the 
line and the others followed blindly. Three 
men were crushed to death in their passage 
and all the mammoths were gone save the big 
bull, who had started to rejoin his herd but had 
not reached it in time. He was now raging 
up and down in the grove, bewildered and 
trumpeting angrily. Immediately the hunters 
II 



1 62 THE STORY OF AB 

gathered closer together and made their Hne 
of fire continuous. 

The mammoth rushed out clear of the trees 
and stood looming up, a magnificent creature 
of unrivaled size and majesty. His huge 
tusks shone out whitely against the mountain 
of dark shaggy hair. His small eyes blazed 
viciously as he raised his trunk and trumpeted 
out what seemed either a hoarse call to his 
herd or a roar of agony over his strait. He 
seemed for a moment as if about to rush upon 
the dense line of his tormentors, but the flam- 
ing faggots dashed almost in his face by the 
reckless and excited hunters daunted him, 
and, as a spear lodged in his trunk, he turned 
with almost a shriek of pain and dashed into 
the grove again. Close at his heels bounded 
the hundred men, yelling like demons and 
forgetting all danger in the madness of the 
chase. Right through the grove the great 
beast crashed and then half turned as he came 
to the open slope beyond. Running beside 
him was a daring youth trying in vain to pierce 
him in the belly with his flint-headed spear, 
and, as the mammoth came for the moment 
to a half halt, his keen eyes noted the pygmy, 
his great trunk shot downward and backward, 



THE MAMMOTH AT BAY 1 63 

picked up the man and hurled him yards away 
against the base of a great tree, the body as 
it struck being crushed out of all semblance 
to man and dropping to the earth a shapeless 
lump. But the fire behind and about the 
desperate mammoth seemed all one ilame 
now, countless spears thrown with all the 
force of strong arms were piercing his tough 
hide, and out upon the slope toward the preci- 
pice the great beast plunged. Upon his very 
flanks was the fire and about him all the sting- 
ing danger from the half-crazed hunters. He 
lunged forward, slipped upon the smooth gla- 
cial floor beneath him, tried to turn again to 
meet his thronging foes and face the ring of 
flame, and then, wavering, floundering, moving 
wonderfully for a creature of his vast size, but 
uncertain as to foothold, he was driven to the 
very crest of the ledge, and, scrambling vainly, 
carrying away an avalanche of ice, snow and 
shrubs, went crashing to his death, a hundred 
feet below! 



CHAPTER XVL 

THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH. 

To the right and left of the precipice the 
fall to the plain below was more gradual, and 
with exultant yells, the cave and Shell men 
rushed in either direction, those venturing 
nearest the sheer descent going down like 
monkeys, clinging as they went to shrubs and 
vines, while those who ran to where the drop 
was a degree more passable fairly tumbled 
downward to the plain. In an incredibly short 
space of time absolute silence prevailed in and 
about the grove where the scene had lately 
been so fiercely stirring. In the valley below 
there was wildest clamor. 

It was a great occasion for the human beings 
of the region. There was no question as to 
the value of the prize the hunters had secured. 
Never before in any joint hunting expedition, 
within the memory of the oldest present, had 
followed more satisfactory result. The spoil 
was well worth the great effort that had been 
made; in the estimation of the time, perhaps 

164 



THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH 165 

worth the death of the hunters who had been 
killed. The huge beast lay dead, close to the 
base of the cliff. One great, yellow-white, 
curved tusk had been snapped off and showed 
itself distinct upon the grass some feet away 
from the mountain of flesh so lately animated. 
The sight was one worth looking upon in any 
age, for, in point of grandeur of appearance, 
the mammoth, while not as huge as some of 
the monsters of reptilian times, had a looming 
impressiveness never surpassed by any beast 
on the earth's surface. Though prone and 
dead he was impressive. 

But the cave and Shell men were not so 
much impressed as they were delighted. They 
had come into possession of food in abundance 
and there would be a feast of all the people of 
the region, and, after that, abundant meat in 
many a hut and cav^ for many a day. The 
hunters were noisy and excited. A group 
pounced upon the broken tusk — for a mam- 
moth tusk, or a piece of one, was a prize in a 
cave dwelling — and there was prospect of a 
struggle, but grim voices checked the wrangle 
of those who had seized upon this portion of 
the spoil and it was laid aside, to be appor- 



1 66 THE STORY OF AB 

tioned later. The feast was the thing to be 
considered now. 

Again swift-footed messengers ran along 
forest paths and swam streams and thridded 
wood and thicket, this time to assemble, not 
the hunters alone, but with them all members 
of households who could conveniently and 
safely come to the gathering of the morrow, 
when the feast of the mammoth would be on. 
The messengers dispatched, the great carcass 
was assailed, and keen flint knives, wielded by 
strong and skillful hands, were soon separating 
from the body the thick skin, which was 
divided as seemed best to the leaders of the 
gathering, Hilltop, the old hunter, for his 
special services, getting the chief award in the 
division. Then long slices of the meat were 
cut away, fires were built, the hunters ate to 
repletion and afterward, with a few remaining 
awake as guards, slept the sleep of the healthy 
and fully fed. Not in these modern days 
would such preliminary consumption of food 
be counted wisest preparation for a feast on 
the morrow, but the cave and Shell men were 
alike independent of affections of the stomach 
or the liver, and could, for days in sequence, 
gorge themselves most buoyantly. 



THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH 167 

The morning came crisp and clear, and, 
with the morning, came from all directions 
swiftly moving men and women, elated and 
hungry and expectant. The first families and 
all other families of the region were gathering 
for the greatest social function of the time. 
The men of various households had already 
exerted themselves and a score or two of fires 
were burning, while the odor of broiling meat 
was fragrant all about. Hunter husbands 
met their broods, and there was banqueting, 
which increased as, hour after hour, new 
groups came in. The families of both Ab and 
Oak were among those early in the valley, 
Beechleaf and Bark, wide-eyed and curious, 
coming upon the scene as a sort of advance 
guard and proudly greeting Ab. All about 
was heard clucking talk and laughter, an oc- 
casional shout, and ever the cracking of stone 
upon the more fragile thing, as the monster's 
roasted bones were broken to secure the mar- 
row in them. 

There was hilarity and universal enjoyment, 
though the assemblage, almost by instinct, 
divided itself into two groups. The cave men 
and the Shell men, while at this time friendly, 
were, as has been indicated, unlike in many 



1 68 THE STORY OF AB 

tastes and customs and to an extent unlike in 
appearance. The cave man, accustomed to 
run like the deer along the forest ways, or to 
avoid sudden danger by swift upward clamber- 
ing and swinging along among treetops, was 
leaner and more muscular than the Shell 
man, and had in his countenance a more 
daring and confident expression. The Shell 
man was shorter and, though brawny of 
build, less active of movement. He had 
spent more hours of each day of his life in his 
rude raft-boat, or in walking slowly with poised 
spear along creek banks, or, with bent back, 
digging for the great luscious shell-fish which 
made a portion of his food, than he had spent 
afoot and on land, with the smell of growing 
things in his nostrils. The flavor of the water 
was his, the flavor of the wood the cave man's. 
So it was that at the feast of the mammoth 
the allies naturally and good-naturedly became 
somewhat grouped, each person according to 
his kind. When hunger was satisfied and the 
talking-time came on, those with objects and 
impulses the same could compare notes most 
interestedly. Constantly the number of the 
feasters increased, and by mid-day there was a 
company of magnitude. Much meat was re- 



THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH 1 69 

quired to feed such a number, but there were 
tons of meat in a mammoth, enough to defy 
the immediate assaults of a much greater 
assemblage than this of exceedingly healthy 
people. And the smoke from the fires as- 
cended and these rugged ones ate and were 
happy. 

But there came a time in the afternoon 
when even such feasters as were assembled on 
this occasion became, in a measure, content, 
when this one and that one began to look 
about, and when what might be called the 
social amenities of the period began. Vet- 
erans flocked together, reminiscent of former 
days when another mammoth had been driven 
over this same cliff; the young grouped about 
different firesides, and there was talk of feats 
of strength and daring and an occasional 
friendly grapple. Slender, sinewy girls, who 
had girls' ways then as now, ate together and 
looked about coquettishly and safely, for none 
had come without their natural guardians. 
Rarely in the history of the cave men had 
there been a gathering more generally and 
thoroughly festive, one where good eating had 
made more good fellowship. Possibly — for 
all things are relative — there has never oc- 



170 THE STORY OF AB 

curred an affair of more social importance 
within the centuries since. Human beings, 
dangerous ones, were merry and trusting to- 
gether, and the young looked at each other. 

Of course Ab and Oak had been eating in 
company. They had risked themselves dan- 
gerously in the battle on the cliff, had escaped 
injury and were here now, young men of im- 
portance, each endowed with an appetite cor- 
responding with the physical exertion of which 
he was capable and which he never hesitated 
to make. The amount either of those young 
men had eaten was sufficient to make a gour- 
mand, though of grossest Roman times, fairly 
sick with envy, and they were still eating, 
though, it must be confessed, with modified 
enthusiasm. Each held in his hand a smok- 
ing lump of flesh from some favored portion 
of the mammoth and each rent away an occa-, 
sional mouthful with much content. Sud- 
denly Ab ceased mastication and stood silent, 
gazing intently at a not unpleasing object a 
few yards distant. 

Two girls stood together near a fire about 
which were grouped perhaps a dozen people. 
The two were eating, not voraciously, but 
with an apparent degree of interest in what 



THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH I?! 

they were doing, for they had not been among 
the early arrivals. It was upon these two 
that Ab's wandering glance had fallen and 
had been held, and it was not surprising that 
he had become so interested. Either of the 
couple was fitted to attract attention, though 
a pair more utterly unlike it would be difficult 
to imagine. One was slight and the other 
the very reverse, but each had striking char- 
acteristics. 

They stood there, the two, just as two girls 
so often stand to-day, the hand of one laid 
half-caressingly upon the hip of the other. 
The beaming, broad one was chattering volu- 
bly and the slender one listening carelessly. 
The talking of the heavier girl was interrupted 
evenly by her mumbling at a juicy strip of 
meat. Her hunger, it was clear, had not yet 
been satisfied, and it was as clear, too, that her 
companion had yet an appetite. The slender 
one was, seemingly, not much interested in the 
conversation, but the other chattered on. It 
was plain that she was a most contented 
being. She was symmetrical only from the 
point of view of admirers of the heavily built. 
She had very broad hips and muscular arms 
and was somewhat squat of structure. It is 



172 THE STORY OF AB 

hesitatingly to be admitted of this young lady 
that, sturdy and prepossessing, from a prac- 
tical point of view, as she might be to the 
average food-winning cave man, she lacked a 
certain something which would, to the obser- 
vant, place her at once in good society. She 
was an exceedingly hairy young woman. She 
wore the usual covering of skins, but she 
would have been well-draped, in moderately 
temperate weather, had the covering been ab- 
sent. Either for fashion's sake or comfort, 
not much weight of foreign texture in addi- 
tion to her own hirsute and, to a certain ex- 
tent, graceful, natural garb, was needed. She 
was a female Esau of the time, just a great, 
good-hearted, strong and honest cave girl, of 
the subordinate and obedient class which 
began thousands of years before did history, 
one who recognized in the girl who stood be- 
side her a stronger and dominating spirit, and 
who had been received as a trusted friend and 
willing assistant. It is so to-day, even among 
the creatures which are said to have no souls, 
the dogs especially. But the girl had strength 
and a certain quick, animal intelligence. She 
was the daughter of a cave man living not far 
from the home of old Hilltop, and her name 



THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH 173 

was Moonface. Her countenance was so 
broad and beaming that the appellation had 
suggested itself in her jolly childhood. 

Very different from Moonface was the slen- 
der being who, having eaten a strip of meat, 
was now seeking diligently with a splinter for 
the marrow in the fragment of bone her father 
had tossed toward her. Her father was Hill- 
top, the veteran of the immediate region and 
the hero of the day, and she was called Light- 
foot, a name she had gained early, for not in 
all the country round about was another who 
could pass over the surface of the earth with 
greater swiftness than could she. And it was 
upon Lightfoot that Ab was looking. 

The young woman would have been fair to 
look upon, or at least fascinating, to the most 
world-wearied and listless man of the present 
day. She stood there, easily and gracefully, 
her arms and part of her breast, above, and 
her legs from about the knees, below, showing 
clearly from beneath her covering of skins. 
Her deep brown hair, knotted back with a 
string of the tough inner bark of some tree, 
hung upon the middle of her flat, in-setting 
back. She was not quite like any of the other 
girls about her. Her eyes were larger and 



174 THE STORY OF AB 

softer and there was more reflection and va- 
riety of expression in them. Her hmbs were 
quite as long as those of any of her compan- 
ions and the fingers and toes, though slenderer, 
were quite as suggestive of quick and strong 
grasping capabilities, but there was, with all 
the proof of springiness and litheness, a certain 
rounding out. The strip of hair upon her legs 
below the knees was slight and silken, as was 
also that upon her arms. Yet, undoubted 
leader in society as her appearance indicated, 
quite aside from her father's standing, there 
was in her face, with all its loftiness of air, a 
certain blithesomeness which was almost at 
variance with conditions. She was a most 
lovable young woman — there could be no 
question about that — and Ab had, as he 
looked upon her for the first time, felt the fact 
from head to heel. He thought of her as like 
the leopard tree-cat, most graceful creature of 
the wood, so trim was she and full of elastic- 
ity, and thought of her, too, as he looked in 
her intelligent face, as higher in another way. 
He was somewhat awed, but he was courageous. 
He had, so far in life, but sought to get what 
he wanted whenever it was in sight. Now he 
was nonplussed. 



THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH I75 

Presently Lightfoot raised her eyes and they 
met those of Ab. The young people looked 
at each other steadily for a moment and then 
the glance of the girl was turned away. But, 
meanwhile, the man had recovered himself. 
He had been eating, absent-mindedly, a well- 
cooked portion of a great steak of the mam- 
moth's choicest part. He now tore it in twain 
and watched the girl intently. She raised her 
eyes again and he tossed her a half of the 
smoking flesh. She saw the movement, caught 
the food deftly in one hand as it reached her, 
and looked at Ab and laughed. There was 
no mock modesty. She began eating the 
choice morsel contentedly; the two were, in a 
manner, now made formally acquainted. 

The young man did not, on the instant, 
pursue his seeming advantage, the result of an 
impulsive bravery requiring a greater effort on 
his part than the courage he had shown in 
conflict with many a beast of the forest. He 
did not talk to the young woman. But he 
thought to himself, while his blood bubbled in 
his veins, that he would find her again; that 
he would find her in the wood! She did not 
look at him more, for her people were cluster- 
ing about her and this was a great occasion. 



176 THE STORY OF AB 

Ab was recalled to himself by a hoarse excla- 
mation. Oak was looking at him fiercely. 
There was no other sound, but the young man 
stood gazing fixedly at the place where the 
girl had just been lost amid the group about 
her. And Ab knew instinctively, as men 
have learned to know so well in all the years, 
from the feeling which comes to them at such 
a time, that he had a rival, that Oak also had 
seen and loved this slender creature of the 
hillside. 

There was a division of the mammoth flesh 
and hide and tusks. Ab struggled manfully 
for a portion of one of the tusks, which he 
wanted for Old Mok's carving, and won it at 
last, the elders deciding that he and Oak had 
fought well enough upon the cliff to entitle 
them to a part of the honor of the spoil, and 
Oak opposing nothing done by Ab, though his 
looks were glowering. Then, as the sun passed 
toward the west, all the people separated to 
take the dangerous paths toward their homes. 
Ab and Oak journeyed away together. Ab 
was jubilant, though doubtful, while the face 
of Oak was dark. The heart of neither was 
light within him. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE COMRADES. 

Drifting away in various directions toward 
their homes the Cave and Shell People still 
kept in groups, by instinct. Social functions 
terminated before dark and guests going and 
coming kept together for mutual protection in 
those days of the cave bear and other beasts. 
But on the day of the Feast of the Mammoth 
there was somewhat less than the usual pre- 
caution shown. There were vigorous and 
well-armed hunters at hand by scores, and 
under such escort women and children might 
travel after dusk with a degree of safety, un- 
less, indeed, the great cave tiger, Sabre-Tooth, 
chanced to be abroad, but he was more rarely 
to be met than others of the wild beasts of the 
time. When he came it was as a thunderbolt 
and there were death and mourning in his 
trail. The march through the forest as the 
shadows deepened was most watchful. There 
was a keen lookout on the part of the men, 
and the women kept their children well in 

12 177 



178 THE STORY OF AB 

hand. From time to time, one family after 
another detached itself from the main body 
and melted into the forest on the path to its 
own cave near at hand. Thus Hilltop and his 
family left the group in which were Ab and 
Oak, and glances of fire followed them as they 
went. The two girls, Lightfoot and Moon- 
face, had walked together, chattering like 
crows. They had strung red berries upon 
grasses and had hung them in their hair and 
around their necks, and were fine creatures. 
Lightfoot, as was her wont, laughed freakishly 
at whatever pleased her, and in her merry 
mood had an able second in her sturdy com- 
panion. There were moments, though, when 
even the irrepressible Lightfoot was thought- 
ful and so quiet that the girl who was with her 
wondered. The greater girl had been lightly 
touched with that unnamable force which has 
changed men and women throughout all the 
ages. The picture of Ab's earnest face was 
in her mind and would not depart. She could 
not, of course, define her own mood, nor did 
she attempt it. She felt within herself a cer- 
tain quaking, as of fear, at the thought of him, 
and yet, so she told herself again and again, 
she was not afraid. All the time she could 



THE COMRADES I79 

see Ab's face, with its look of longing and 
possession, but with something else in it, when 
his eyes met hers, which she could not name 
nor understand. She could not speak of him, 
but Moonface had upon her no such stilling 
influence. 

"They look alike," she said. 

Lightfoot assented, knowing the girl meant 
Ab and Oak. ' * But Ab is taller and stronger, " 
Moonface continued, and Lightfoot assented 
as indifferently, for, somehow, of the two she 
had remembered definitely one only. She 
became daring in her reflections: ''What if 
he should want to carry me to his cave.''" and 
then she tried to run away from the thought 
and from anything and everybody else, leaping 
forward, outracing and leaving all the com- 
pany. She reached her father's cave far ahead 
of the others and stood, laughing, at the en- 
trance, as the family and Moonface, a guest 
for the night, came trotting up. 

And Ab, the buoyant and strong, was not 
himself as he journeyed with the homeward- 
pressing company. His mood changed and 
he dropped away from Oak and lagged in the 
rear of the little band as it wound its way 
through the forest. Slight time was needed 



l8o THE STORY OF AB 

for others to recognize his mood, and he was 
strong of arm and quick of temper, as all knew 
well, and, so, he was soon left to stalk behind 
in independent sulkiness. He felt a weight in 
his breast; a fiery spot burned there. He was 
fierce with Oak because Oak had looked at 
Lightfoot with a warm light in his eyes. He! 
when he should have known that Ab was 
looking at her! This made rage in his heart; 
and sadness came, too, because he was per- 
plexed over the girl. ''How can I get her?" 
he mumbled to himself, as he stalked along. 

Meanwhile, at the van of the company there 
was noise and frolic. Assembled in force, they 
were for the hour free from dread of the 
haunting terror of wild beasts, and, satisfied 
with eating, the Cave and Shell People were 
in one of the merriest moods of their lives, 
collectively speaking. The young men were 
especially jubilant and exuberant of demeanor. 
Their sport was rough and dangerous. There 
were scuffling and wrestling and the more 
reckless threw their stone axes, sometimes at 
each other, always, it is true, with warning 
cries, but with such wild, unconscious strength 
put in the throwing that the finding of a living 
target might mean death. Ab, engrossed in 



THE COMRADES i8i 

thoughts of something far apart from the rude 
sport about him became nervously impatient. 
Like the girl, he wanted to escape from his 
thoughts, and bounding ahead to mingle with 
the darting and swinging group in front, he 
was soon the swift and stalwart leader in their 
foolishly risky sport, the center of the whole 
commotion. One muscled man would hurl 
his stone hatchet or strong flint-headed spear 
at a green tree and another would imitate him 
until a space in advance was covered and the 
word given for a rush, when all would race for 
the target, each striving to reach it first and 
detach his own weapon before others came. 
It was a merry but too careless contest, with 
a chance of some serious happening. There 
followed a series of these mad games and the 
oldsters smiled as they heard the sound of 
vigorous contest and themselves raced as they 
could, to keep in close company with the 
stronger force. 

Ab had shown his speed in all his playing. 
Now he ran to the front and plucked out his 
spear, a winner, then doubled and ran back 
beside the pathway to mingle with the central 
body of travelers, having in mind only to keep 
in the heart and forefront of as many contests 



1 82 THE STORY OF AB 

as possible. There was more shouting and 
another rush from the main body and, bound- 
ing aside from all, he ran to get the chance 
of again hurling his spear as well. A great 
oak stood in the middle of the pathway and 
toward it already a spear or two had been 
sent, all aimed, as the first thrower had indi- 
cated, at a white fungus growth which pro- 
truded from the tree. It was a matter of 
accuracy this time. Ab leaped ahead some 
yards in advance of all and hurled his spear. 
He saw the white chips fly from the side of 
the fungus target, saw the quivering of the 
spear shaft with the head deep sunken in the 
wood, and then felt a sudden shock and pain 
in one of his legs. He fell sideways off the 
path and beneath the brushwood, as the wild 
band, young and old, swept by. He was 
crippled and could not walk. He called aloud, 
but none heard him amid the shouting of 
that careless race. He tried to struggle to his 
feet, but one leg failed him and he fell back, 
lying prone, just aside from the forest path, 
nearly weaponless and the easy prey of the 
wild beasts. What had hurt him so grievously 
was a spear thrown wildly from behind him. 
It had, hurled with great strength, struck a 



THE COMRADES 1 83 

smooth tree trunk and glanced aside, the point 
of the spear striking the young man fairly in 
the calf of the leg, entering somewhat the 
bone itself, and shocking, for the moment, 
every nerve. The flint sides had cut a vein 
or two and these were bleeding, but that was 
nothing. The real danger lay in his helpless- 
ness. Ab was alone, and would afford good 
eating for those of the forest who, before long, 
would be seeking him. The scent of the wild 
beast was a wonderful thing. The m.an tried 
to rise, then lay back sullenly. Far in the 
distance, and growing fainter and fainter, he 
could hear the shouts of the laughing spear- 
throwers. 

The strong young man, thus left alone to 
death almost inevitable, did not altogether 
despair. He had still with him his good stone 
ax and his long and keen stone knife. He 
would, at least, hurt something sorely before 
he was eaten, he thought grimly to himself. 
And then he pressed leaves together on the 
cut upon his leg, and laid himself back upon 
the leaves and waited. 

He did not have to wait long. He had not 
thought to do so. How full the woods were 
of blood-scenting and man-eating things none 



184 THE STORY OF AB 

knew better than he. His ear, keen and 
trained, caught the patter of a distant ap- 
proach. * ' Wolves, " he said to himself at first, 
and then ''Hyenas," for the step was puz- 
zling. He was perplexed. The step was reg- 
ular, and it was not in the forest on either 
side, but was coming up the path. A terror 
came upon him and he had crawled deeper into 
the shades, when he noted that the steps first 
ceased, and then that they wandered search- 
ingly and uncertainly. Then, loud and strong, 
rang out a voice, calling his name, and it was 
the voice of Oak! He could not answer for a 
moment, and then he cried out gladly. 

Oak had, in the forward-rushing group, seen 
Ab's hurt and fall, but had thought it a trifling 
matter, since no outcry came from those behind, 
and so had kept his course away and ahead 
with the rest. But finally he had noted the 
absence of Ab and had questioned, and then — 
first telling some of his immediate companions 
that they were to lag and wait for him — had 
started back upon a run to reach the place 
where he had last seen his friend. It was 
easy now to arrange wet leaves about Ab's 
crippling, but little more than temporary, 
wound. The two, one leaning upon the other 



THE COMRADES 185 

and hobbling painfully, and each with weap- 
ons in hand, contrived, at last, to reach Oak's 
lingering and grumbling contingent. Ab was 
helped along by two instead of one then, 
and the rest was eas3^ When the pathway 
leading to home was reached, Oak accom- 
panied his friend, and the two passed the 
night together. 

Ab, once on his own bed, with Oak couched 
beside him, was surprised to find, not merely 
that his physical pain was going, but that the 
greater one was gone. The weight and burning 
had left his breast and he was no longer angry 
at Oak. He thought blindly but directly to- 
ward conclusions. He had almost wanted to 
kill Oak, all because each saw the charm of 
and wanted the possession of a slender, beau- 
tiful creature of their kind. Then something 
dangerous had happened to him, and this 
same Oak, his friend, the man he had wished 
to kill, had come back and saved his life. The 
sense which we call gratitude, and which is 
not unmingled with what we call honor, came 
to this young cave man then. He thought of 
many things, worried and wakeful as he was, 
and perhaps made more acute of perception 
by the slight, exciting fever of his wound. 



1 86 THE STORY OF AB 

He thought of how the two, he and Oak, had 
planned and risked together, of their boyish 
folHes and failures and successes, and of how, 
in later years. Oak had often helped him, of 
how he had saved Oak's life once in the river 
swamp, where quicksands were, of how Oak 
had now offset even that debt by carrying him 
away from certain ending amid wild beasts. 
No one — and of the cave men he knew many — 
no one in all the careless, merry party had 
missed him save Oak. He doubtless could 
not have told himself why it was, but he was 
glad that he could repay it all and have the 
balance still upon his side. He was glad that 
he had the secret of the bow and arrow to 
reveal. That should be Oak's! So it came 
that, late that night, when the fire in the cave 
had burned low and when one could not 
wisely speak above a whisper, Ab told Oak 
the story of the new weapon, of how it had 
been discovered, of how it was to be used and 
of all it was for hunters and fighters. Fur- 
thermore, he brought his best bow and best 
arrows forth, and told Oak they were his and 
that they would practice together in the morn- 
ing. His astonished and delighted companion 
had little to say over the revelation. He was 



THE COMRADES 187 

eager for the morning, but he straightened out 
his limbs upon the leafy mattress and slept 
well. So, somewhat later, did the half-fever- 
ish Ab. 

Morning came and the cave people were 
astir. There was brief though hearty feeding 
and then Ab and Oak and Old Mok, to whom 
Ab had said much aside, went away from the 
cave and into the forest. There Oak was 
taught the potency of the new weapon, its 
deadly quality and the safety of distance it 
afforded its user. It was a great morning 
for all three, not excepting the stern and 
critical old teacher, when they thus met to- 
gether in the wood and the secret of what 
two had found was so transmitted to another. 
As for Oak, he was fairly aflame with excite- 
ment. He was far from slow of mind and he 
recognized in a moment the enormous advan- 
tage of the new way of killing either the things 
they ate, or the things they dreaded most. 
He could scarcely restrain his eagerness to ex- 
periment for himself. Before noon had come 
he was gone, carr3dng away the bow and the 
good arrows. As he disappeared in the wood 
Ab said nothing, but to himself he thought: 



1 88 THE STORY OF AB 

' ' He may have all the bows and arrows he 
can make, but I will have Lightfoot my- 
self!" 

Ab and Mok started for the cave again, Ab, 
bow in hand and with ready arrow. There 
was a patter of feet upon leaves in the w^ood 
beside them and then the arrow was fitted to 
the string, while Old Mok, strong-armed if 
weak-legged, raised aloft his spear. The two 
were seeking no conflict with wild beasts to- 
day and were but defensive and alert. They 
were puzzled by the sound their quick ears 
caught. ''Patter, patter, " ever beside them, 
but deep in the forest shade, came the sound 
of menacing followers of some sort. 

There was tension of nerves. Old Mok. 
sturdy and unconsciously fatalistic, was more 
self-contained than the youth at his side, bow- 
armed and with flint ax and knife ready for 
instant use. At last an open space was 
reached across which ran the well-worn path. 
Now the danger must reveal itself. The two 
men emerged into the glade, and, a moment 
later, there bounded into it gamboling and 
full of welcome, the wolf cubs, which had 
played about the cave so long, who were now 
detached from their own kind and preferred 



THE COMRADES ^^9 

the companionship of man. There was laugh- 
ter then, and a more careless demeanor with 
the weapon borne. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

LOVE AND DEATH. 

Different from his former self became this 
young forester, Ab. He was thinking of some- 
thing other than wild beasts and their pursuit. 
Instinctively, the course of his hunting expe- 
ditions tended toward the northwest and soon 
the impulse changed to a design. He must 
look upon Lightfoot again! Henceforth he 
haunted the hill region, and never keener for 
quarry or more alert for the approach of some 
dangerous animal was the eye of this woods- 
man than it was for the appearance somewhere 
of a slender figure of a cave girl. Neither game 
nor things to dread were numerous in the 
vicinity of the home of Hilltop, for there one 
of the hardiest and wisest among hunters had 
occupied his cave for many years, and wild 
beasts learn things. So it chanced that Light- 
foot could wander farther afield than could 
most girls of the time. Ab knew all this well, 
for the quality of expert and venturesome old 
Hilltop was familiar to all the cave men 

190 



LOVE AND DEATH IQI 

throughout a wide stretch of country. So 
Ab, somewhat shamefaced to his own con- 
sciousness, hunted in a region not the best for 
spoil, and looked for a girl who might appear 
on some forest path, moderately safe from the 
rush of any of the hungry man-eaters of the 
wood. 

But not all the time of this wild lover was 
wasted in haunting the possible idling-places 
of the girl he wanted so. With love there had 
come to him such sense and thoughtfulness as 
has come with earnest love to millions since. 
What could he do with Lightfoot should he 
gain her.? He was but a big, young fighting 
man and hunter, still sleeping, almost nightly, 
on one of the leaf beds in his father's cave. 
With a wife of his own he must have a cave 
of his own. Compared with his first impulses 
toward the girl, this was a new train of thought, 
and, as we recognize it to-day, a nobler one. 
He wanted to care for his own. He wanted 
a cave fit for the reception of such a woman 
as this, to him, the sweetest and proudest of 
all beings, Lightfoot, daughter of old Hilltop, 
of the wooded highlands. 

Far up the river, far beyond the home of 
Oak's father and beyond the shining marsh- 



192 THE STORY OF AB 

lands and the purple heather reaches which 
made the foothills pleasant, extended to the 
river's bank a promontory, bold and picturesque 
and clad heavily with the best of trees. It 
was a great stretch of land, where, in some of 
nature's grim work, the earth had been up- 
heaved and there had been raised good soil for 
giant forests, and at the same time been made 
broad caverns to become future habitations of 
the creature known as man. But the trees 
bore nuts and fruits, and such creatures as 
found food in nuts and fruits, and, later, such 
as loved rich herbage, came to the forest in 
great numbers, and then followed such as fed 
upon these again, all the flesh eaters, to whom 
man was, as any other living thing, to be seized 
upon and devoured. The promontory, so rich 
in game and nuts and fruits, was, at the same 
time, the most dangerous in all the region for 
human habitation. There were deep, dry 
caves within its limits, but in none of them had 
a cave man yet ventured to make his home. It 
was toward this promontory that the young 
man in love turned his eyes. Because others 
had feared to make a home in this lone, high 
region should he also fear.'* There was food 
there in plenty and if there were chance of 



LOVE AND DEATH 193 

fighting in plenty, so much the better! Was 
he not strong and fleet; had he not the best of 
spears and axes? Above all, had he not the 
new weapon which made man far above the 
beasts? Here was the place for a home which 
should be the best in all this region of the cave 
men. Here game and food of all kinds would be 
most abundant. The situation would demand 
a brave man and a woman scarcely less cour- 
ageous, but would not he and the girl he was 
determined to bring there meet all occasion? 
His mind was fixed. 

Ab found a cave, one clean and dry and 
opening out upon a slight treeless area, and 
this he, lover-like, improved for the woman 
he had resolved to bring there, arranging care- 
fully the interior of which must be a home. 
He had fancies such as lovers have exhibited 
from since the time . when the plesiosaurus 
swashed away in the strand of a warm sea a 
hollow nursery for the birth and first tending 
of the young of his odd kind, up to the later 
time when men have squandered fortunes on 
the sleeping rooms of women they have loved. 
He toiled for many days. With his ax he 
chipped away the cavern's sharp protuberances 
at each side, and with the stone chips from 
13 



194 THE STORY OF AB 

the walls and with what he brought from out- 
side, he made the floor white and clean and 
nearly level. He built a fireplace and chipped 
into a huge stone, which, fortunately, lay inside 
the cave, a hollow for holding drinking water, 
or for the boiling of meat. He built up a 
passage-way at the entrance, allowing some- 
thing but not too much more than his own 
width, as the gauge for measurement of its 
breadth. He brought into the cave a deep 
carpet of leaves and made a wide bed in one 
corner and this he covered with furred skins, 
for many skins Ab owned in his own right. 
Then, with a thick fragment of tough branch 
as a lever, he rolled a big stone near the cave's 
entrance and left it ready to be occupied as a 
home. The woman was still lacking. 

There came a day when Ab, impatient after 
his searching and waiting, but yet resolute, 
had killed a capercailzie — the great grouse- 
like bird of the time, the descendants of which 
live to-day in northern forests — and had built 
a fire and feasted, and then, instinctively 
careful, had climbed to the first broad, low 
branch of an enormous tree and there adjusted 
himself to sleep the sleep of one who has 
eaten heartily. He lay with the big branch 



LOVE AND DEATH 195 

for a bed, supported on either side by green, 
upspringing twigs, and slept well for an hour 
or two and then awoke, lazy and listless, but 
with much good to him from the repast and 
rest. It was not yet very late in the after- 
noon and the sun still shone kindly upon him, 
as upon a whole world of rejoicing things. 
Something like a reflection of the life of the 
morning was beginning to manifest itself, as is 
ever the way where forests and wild things 
are. The wonderful noise of wood life was 
renewed. As the young man awakened, he 
felt in every pulse the thrilling powers of 
existence. Everything was fair to look upon. 
His ears took in the sound of the voices of 
birds, already beginning vesper songs, though 
the afternoon was yet so early as scarcely to 
hint of evening, and the scent from a thousand 
plants and flowers, permeating and intoxicat- 
ing, reached his senses as he lounged sprawl- 
ingly upon his safe bed aloft. 

It was attractive, the scene which Ab looked 
upon. The forest was in all the glory of sum- 
mer and nesting and breeding things were 
happy. There was the fullness of the being 
of trees and plants and of all birds and beasts. 
There was a soft commingling of sounds which 



196 THE STORY OF AB 

told of the life about, the effect of which was, 
somehow, almost drowsy in the blending of 
all together. The great ferns waved gently 
along the hollows as the slight breeze touched 
them. They were queer, those ferns. They 
were not quite so slender and tapering and 
gothic as the ferns we see to-day. They were 
a trifle more lush and ragged, and their tips 
were sometimes almost rounded. But Ab 
noted little of fern or bird. It was only the 
general sensuousness that was upon him. 
The smell of the pines was a partial tonic to 
the healthy, half-awakened man, and, though 
he lay back upon the rugged wooden bed and 
half dozed again, nature had aroused him a 
trifle beyond the point of relapse into abso- 
lute, unknowing slumber. There was coming 
to him a sharpness of perception which af- 
fected the quiescence of his enjoyment. He 
rose to a sitting posture and looked about him. 
At once his eyes flashed, every nerve and 
muscle became tense and the blood leaped 
turbulently in his veins. He had seen that 
for which he had come into this region, the 
girl who had so reached his rude, careless 
heart. Lightfoot was very near him! 

The girl, all unconscious, was sitting upon 



LOVE AND DEATH 197 

the trunk of a fallen tree which lay close be- 
side a creek. There was an abundance of 
small pebbles upon the little strand and the 
young lady was absent-mindedly engaged in an 
occupation in which, to the observer, she took 
some interest, while she, no doubt, was really 
thinking of something else. She sat there, 
slender, beautiful and excelling, in her way, 
the belle of the period, merely amusing her- 
self. Her toes were charming toes. There 
could be no debate on that point, for, while 
long and strong and flexible, they had a cer- 
tain evenness and symmetry. They were 
being idly employed just now. At the creek's 
edge, half imbedded in the ground, uprose the 
crest of a granite stone. Picking up pebble 
after pebble in her admirable toes, Lightfoot 
was engaged in throwing them, one after an- 
other, at the outstanding point of granite, 
utilizing in the performance only those toes 
and the brown leg below the knee. She did 
exceedingly well and hit the red-brown target 
often. Ab, hot-headed and fierce lover in the 
tree top, looked on admiringly. How perfect 
of form was she; how bright the face! and 
then, forgetting himself, he cried aloud and 
slid from the branch as easily and swiftly as 



igS THE STORY OF AB 

any serpent and started running toward the 
girl. He must have her! 

With his cry, the girl leaped to her feet, 
and as he reached the ground, recognized him 
on the instant. She knew in the same in- 
stant that they had felt together and that it 
was not by accident that he was near her. 
She had felt as he; so far as a woman may 
feel with a man; but maidens are maidens, 
and sweet lightness dreads force, and a modi- 
fied terror came upon her. She paused for 
a moment, then turned and ran toward the 
upland forest. 

Not a moment hesitating or faltering as 
affected by the girl's action was the young 
man who had tumbled from the tree bed. 
The blood dancing within him and the great 
natural impulse of gaining what was greatest 
to him in life controlled him now. He was 
hot with fierce lovingness. He ran well, but 
he did not run better than the graceful thing 
before him. 

Even for the critical being of the great 
cities of to-day, the one who ''manages" 
races of all sorts, it would have been worth 
while to see this race in the forest. As the 
doe leaps, scarcely touching the ground, ran 



LOVE AND DEATH 1 99 

Lightfoot. As the wolf or hound runs, less 
swift for the moment, but tireless, ran the man 
behind her. Yet of all the men in the cave 
region, this flying girl wanted most this man 
to take her! It was the maidenly force-dread- 
ing instinct alone which made her run. 

Ab, dogged and enduring, lost no space as 
the race led away toward the hill and home of 
the fleet thing ahead of him. There were 
miles to be covered, and therein he had hope. 
They were on the straight path to Hilltop's 
cave, though there were divergent, curving 
side paths almost as available; but to avoid 
her pursuer, the fugitive could take none of 
these. There were cross-cuts everywhere. 
In leaving the direct path she would but lose 
ground. To reach soon enough by straight, 
clean running the towering wooded hill in 
which was her father's cave seemed the only 
hope of the half-unwilling fugitive. 

There were descents and ascents in the long 
chase and plateaus where the running was on 
level ground. Straining forward, gaining 
little, but confident of overtaking the girl, 
Ab, deep-chested and physically untroubled, 
pressed onward, when he noted that the girl 
made a sudden spurt and bounded forward 



200 THE STORY OF AB 

with a speed not shown before, while, at the 
same time, she swerved from the right of the. 
path. 

It was not Ab who had made her swerve. 
Some new alarm had come to her. She was 
about to reach and, as Ab supposed, pass one 
of the inletting paths entering almost at right 
angles from the left. She did not pass it. 
She leaped into it in evident terror and then, 
breaking out from the wood on the right, came 
another form and one surely in swift following. 
Ab knew the figure well. Oak was the new 
pursuer! 

The awful rage which rose in the heart of 
Ab as he saw what was happening is what 
can no more be described than one can tell 
what a tiger in the jungle thinks. He saw 
another — the other his friend — pursuing and 
intending to take what he wanted to be his 
and what had become to him more than all 
else in the world; more than much eating and 
the skins of things to keep him warm, more 
than a mammoth's tooth to carve, more than 
the glorious skin of the great cave tiger, the 
possession of which made a rude nobility, more 
than anything and all else! He leaped aside 
from the path. He knew well the other path 



LOVE AND DEATH 201 

Upon which were running Oak and Lightfoot. 
He knew that he could intercept them, because, 
though the running was not so good, the dis- 
tance to be covered was much less, for to him 
path running was a light matter. In the wood 
he ran as easily and leaped as well and at- 
tained a point almost as quickly as the beasts. 
There was a stress of effort and, as the shadows 
deepened, he burst m upon the cross path 
where he knew were the fleeing Lightfoot and 
following Oak. He had thought to head them 
off, but Ab was not the only man who was 
swift of foot in the cave country. They passed, 
almost as he bounded from the forest. He 
saw them close together not many yards ahead 
of him and, with a shout of rage, bent himself 
in swift and terrible pursuit again. 

It was all plain to Ab now as he flew along, 
unnoted by the two a,head of him. He knew 
that Oak had, like him, determined to own 
Lightfoot, and had Hke him, been seeking her. 
Only chance had made the chase thus cross 
Oak's path; but that made no difference. 
There must be a grim meeting soon. Ab 
could see that the endurance of the wonder- 
fully fleet-footed woman was not equal to 
that of the man so near her. She would soon 



202 THE STORY OF AB 

be overtaken. Before her rose the hill, not a 
mile in its slope, where were her father's cave, 
and safety. He knew that she had not the 
strength to breast it fleetly enough for covert. 
And, as he looked, he saw the girl turn a 
frightened face toward her close pursuer and 
knew that she saw him as well. Her pace 
slackened for a moment as this revelation 
came to her, and he felt, somehow, that in 
him she recognized comparative protection. 
Then she recovered herself and bent all the 
power she had toward the ascent. But Oak 
had been gaining steadily, and now, with a 
sudden rush, he reached her and grasped her, 
the woman shrieking wildly. A moment later 
Ab rushed in upon them with a shout. In- 
stinctively Oak released the girl, for in the cry 
he heard that which meant menace and im- 
mediate danger. As Lightfoot felt herself 
free she stood for a moment or two without a 
movement, with wide-open eyes, looking upon 
what was happening before her. Then she 
bounded away, not looking backward as she 
ran. 

The two men stood there glaring at each 
other. Oak perched, and yet not perched, so 
broad and perfect was his foothold, on the 



LOVE AND DEATH 203 

crest of a slight shelf of the downward slope. 
There stood the two men, poised, the one 
above, the other below, two who had been as 
close together from childhood as all the attri- 
butes of mind and body might allow, and yet 
now as far apart as human beings may be. 
They were beautiful in a way, each in his 
murderous, unconscious posing for the leap. 
The sun hit the blue ax of Oak and made it 
look a gray. The raised ax of Ab, which was 
of a lighter colored stone, was in the shade 
and its yellowness was darkened into brown. 
The spectacle lasted for but a second. As 
Oak leaped Ab bounded aside and they stood 
upon a level, a tiny plateau, and there was 
fierce, strong fencing. One could not note 
its methods; even the keen-eyed wolverine, 
crouching low upon an adjacent monster limb, 
could never have followed the swift move- 
ments of these stone axes. The dreadful play 
was brief. The clash of stone together 
ceased as there came a duller sound, which 
told that stone had bitten bone. Oak, slightly 
the higher of the two, as they stood thus in 
the fray, leaned forward suddenly, his arms 
aloft, while from his hand dropped the blue 
ax. He floundered down uncouthly and 



204 THE STORY OF AB 

grasped the beech leaves with his hands, and 
then lay still. Ab stood there weaponless, a 
creature wandering of mind. His yellow ax 
had parted from his hand, sunk deeply into 
the skull of Oak, and he looked upon it curi- 
ously and vacantly. He was not sane. He 
stepped forward and pulled the ax away and 
lifted it to a level with his eyes and went to 
where the sunlight shone. The ax was not 
yellow any more. Meanwhile a girl was flit- 
ting toward her home and the shadows of the 
waning day were deepening. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

A RACE WITH DREAD. 

Ab looked toward the forest wherein Light- 
foot had fled and then looked upon that which 
lay at his feet. It was Oak — there were the 
form and features of his friend — but, some- 
how, it was not Oak. There was too much 
silence and the blood upon the leaves seemed 
far too bright. His rage departed, and he 
wanted Oak to answer and called to him, but 
Oak did not answer. Then came slowly to 
him the idea that Oak was dead and that the 
wild beasts would that night devour- the dead 
man where he lay. The thought nerved him 
to desperate, sudden action. He leaped for- 
ward, he put his arms about the body and 
carried it away to a hollow in the wooded 
slope. He worked madly, doing some things 
as he had seen the cave people do at other 
buryings. He placed the weapons of Oak 
beside him. He took from his belt his own 
knife, because it was better than that of Oak, 
and laid it close to the dead man's hand, and 

205 



2o6 THE STORY OF AB 

then, first covering the body with beech 
leaves, he worked frantically upon the over- 
hanging soil, prying it down with a sharp- 
pointed fragment of limb, and tossing in upon 
all as heavy stones as he could lift, until a 
great cairn rose above the hunter who would 
hunt no more. 

Panting with his efforts, Ab sat himself 
down upon a rock and looked upon the mon- 
ument he had raised. Again he called to 
Oak, but there was still no answer. The 
sun had set, evening shadows thickened around 
him. Then there came upon the live man a 
feeling as dreadful as it was new, and, with a 
yell, which was almost a shriek, he leaped to 
his feet and bounded away in fearful flight. 

He only knew this, that there was some- 
thing hurt his inside of body and soul, but not 
the inside of him as it had been when once 
he had eaten poisonous berries or when he 
had eaten too much of the little deer. It was 
something different. It was an awful oppres- 
sion, which seemed to leave his body, in a 
manner, unfeeling but which had a great 
dread about it and which made him think and 
think of the dead man, and made him want 
to run away and keep running. He had al- 



A RACE WITH DREAD 207 

ready run far that day, but he was not tired 
now. His legs seemed to have the hard 
sinews of the stag in them but up toward the 
top of him was something for them to carry 
away as fast and far as possible from some- 
where. He raced from the dense woodland 
down into the broad morass to the west — be- 
yond which was the rock country — and into 
which he had rarely ventured, so treacherous 
its ways. What cared he now! He made 
great leaps and his muscles and sinews re- 
sponded to the thought of him. To cross 
that morass safely required a touch on tus- 
socks and an upbounding aside, a zig-zag ex- 
hibition of great strength and knowingness 
and recklessness. But it was unreasoning; it 
was the instinct begotten of long training and, 
now, of the absence of all nervousness. Each 
taut toe touched each point of bearing just as 
was required above the quagmire, and, all un- 
perceiving and uncaring, he fled over dirty 
death as easily as he might have run upon 
some hardened woodland pathway. He did 
not think nor know nor care about what he 
was doing. He was only running away from 
the something he had never known before! 
Why should he be running now ? He had 



208 THE STORY OF AB 

killed things before and not cared and had 
forgotten. Why should he care now ? But 
there was the something which made him run. 
And where was Oak ? Would Oak meet him 
again and would they hunt together ? No, 
Oak would not come, and he, this Ab, had 
made it so! He must run. No one was fol- 
lowing him — he knew that — but he must run! 

The marsh was passed, night had fallen, 
but he ran on, pressing into the bear and 
tiger haunted forest beyond. Anything, any- 
thing, to make him forget the strange feeling 
and the thing which made him run! He 
plunged into a forest path, utterly reckless, 
wanting relief, a seeker for whatever might 
come. 

In that age and under such conditions as to 
locality it was inevitable that the creature, 
man, running through such a forest path at 
night, must face some fierce creature of the 
carnivora seeking his body for food. Ab, 
blinded of mood, cared not for and avoided 
not a fight, though it might be with the mon- 
ster bear or even the great tiger. There was 
no reason in his madness. He was, though 
he knew it not, a practical suicide, yet one 
who would die fighting. What to him were 



A RACE WITH DREAD 209 

weight and strength to-night ? What to him 
were such encounters as might come with 
hungry four-footed things ? It would but re- 
Keve him were some of the beasts to try to 
gain his Hfe and eat his body. His being 
seemed valueless, and as for the wild beasts — 
and here came out the splendid death-facing 
quality of the cave man — well, it would be 
odd if there were not more deaths than one! 
But all this was vague and only a minor part 
of thought. 

Sometimes, as if to invite death, he yelled 
as he ran. He yelled whenever in his fleeting 
visions he saw Oak lying dead again. So ran 
the man who had killed another. 

There was a growl ahead of him, a sudden 
breaking away of the bushes, and then he was 
thrown back, stunned and bleeding, because 
a great paw had smitteji him. Whatever the 
beast might be, it was hungry and had found 
what seemed easy prey. There was a differ- 
ence, though, which the animal, — it was 
doubtless a bear — unfortunately for him, did 
not comprehend, between the quality of the 
being he proposed to eat just now and of 
other animals included in his ordinary menu. 
But the bear did not reason; he but plunged 



210 THE STORY OF AB 

forward to crush out the remaining Hfe of the 
runner his great paw had driven back and 
down and then to enjoy his meal. 

The man was Httle hurt. His skin coat 
had somewhat protected him and his sinewy 
body had such toughness that the huding of 
it backward for a few feet was not anything 
involving a fatality. Very surely and suddenly 
had been thrust upon him now the practical 
lesson of being or dying, and it was good for 
the half-crazed runner, for it cleared his mind. 
But it made him no less desperate or careless. 
With strength almost maniacal he leaped at 
what he would have fled from at any other 
time, and, swinging his ax with the quickness 
of light, struck tremendously at the great 
lowering head. He yelled again as he felt 
stone cut and crash into bone, though himself 
swept aside once more as a great paw, side- 
struck, hurled him into the bushes. He 
bounded to his feet and saw something huge 
and dark and gasping floundering in the path- 
way. He thought not but ran on panting. 
By some strange freak of forest fortune abet- 
ting might the man wandering of mind had 
driven his ax nearly to the haft into the skull 
of his huge assailant. It may be that never 



A RACE WITH DREAD 211 

before had a cave man, thus armed, done so 
well. The slayer ran on wildly, and now 
weaponless. 

Soon to the runner the scene changed. The 
trees crowded each other less closely and 
there was less of defined pathway. There 
came something of an ascent and he breasted 
it, though less swiftly, for, despite the impel- 
ling force, nature had claims, and muscles were 
wearying of their work. Fewer and fewer 
grew the trees. He knew that he was where 
there was now a sweep of rocky highlands and 
that he was not far from the Fire Country, of 
which Old Mok had so often told him. He 
burst into the open, and as he came out under 
the stars, which he could see again, he heard 
an ominous whine, too near, and a distant 
howl behind him. A wolf pack wanted him. 

He shuddered as he. ran. The life instinct 
was fully awakened in him now, as the dread 
from which he had run became more distant. 
Had he heard that close whine and distant 
howl before he fairly reached the open he 
would have sought a treetop for refuge. Now 
it was too late. He must run ahead blindly 
across the treeless space for such harborage 
as might come. Far ahead of him he could 



212 THE STORY OF AB 

see light, the light of fire, reaching out toward 
him through the darkness. He was panting 
and wearied, but the sounds behind him were 
spur enough to bring the nearly dead to life. 
He bowed his head and ran with such effort 
as he had never made before in all his wild 
and daring existence. 

The wolves of the time, greater, swifter and 
fiercer than the gaunt gray wolves of northern 
latitudes and historic times, ran well, but so 
did contemporaneous man run well, and the 
chase was hard. With his life to save, Ab 
swept panting over the rocky ground with a 
swiftness begotten of the grand last effort of 
remaining strength, running straight toward 
the light, while the wolf pack, now gathered, 
hurled itself from the wood behind and fol- 
lowed swiftly and relentlessly. Ever before 
the man shone the light more brightly; ever 
behind him became more distinct the sound 
made by the following pack. It was a dire 
strait for the running man. He was no longer 
thinking of what he had lately done. He 
ran. 

The light he had seen extended as he neared 
it into what looked like a great fence of flame 
lying across his way. There were gaps in the 



A RACE WITH DREAD 21 3 

fence where the flame, still continuous, was 
not so high as elsewhere. He did not hesi- 
tate. He ran straight ahead. Closer and 
closer behind him crowded the pursuing 
wolves, and straight at the flame he ran. 
There was one chance in many, he thought, 
and he took it without hesitation. Close be- 
fore him now loomed the wall of flame. Close 
behind him slavering jaws were working in 
anticipation, and there was a strain for the 
last rush. There was no alternative. Straight 
at the fire wall where it was lowest rushed Ab, 
and with a great leap he went at and through 
the curling crest of the yellow flame! 

The man had found safety! There was a 
moment of heat and then he knew himself to 
be sprawling upon green turf. A little of the 
strength of desperation was still with him and 
he bounded to his feet and looked about. 
There were no wolves. Beside him was a 
great flat rock, and he clambered upon this, 
and then, over the crest of the flames could 
see easily enough the glaring eyes of his late 
pursuers. They were running up and down, 
raging for their prey, but kept from him be- 
yond all peradventure by the fire they could 
not face. Ab started upright on the rock 



214 THE STORY OF AB 

panting and defiant, a splendid creature erect 
there in the firelight. 

Soon there came to the man a more perfect 
sense of his safety. He shouted aloud to the 
flitting, snarling creatures, which could not 
harm him now; he stooped and found jagged 
stones, which he sent whirling among them. 
There was a savage satisfaction in it. 

Suddenly the man fell to the ground, fairly 
groaning with exhaustion. Nature had be- 
come indignant and the time for recuperation 
had been reached. The wearied runner lay 
breathing heavily and was soon asleep. The 
flames which had afforded safety gave also a 
grateful warmth in the chill night, and so 
it was that scarcely had his body touched the 
ground when he became oblivious to all about 
him, only the heaving of the broad chest 
showing that the man lying fairly exposed in 
the light was a living thing. The varying 
wind sometimes carried the sheet of flame to 
its utmost extent toward him, so that the heat 
must have been intense, and again would 
carry it in an opposite direction while the cold 
air swept down upon the sleeping man. Noth- 
ing disturbed him. Inured alike to heat and 
cold, Ab slept on, slept for hours the sleep 



A RACE WITH DREAD 215 

which follows vast strain and endurance in a 
healthy human being. Then the form lying 
on the ground moved restlessly and muttered 
exclamations came from the lips. The man 
was dreaming. 

For as the sleeper lay there — he remem- 
bered it when he awoke and wondered over it 
many times in after years — Oak sprang through 
the flames, as he himself had done, and soon 
lay panting by his side. The lapping of the 
fire, the snapping and snarling of the wolves 
beyond and the familiar sound of Oak's voice 
all mingled confusedly in his ears, and then 
he and Oak raced together over the rough 
ground, and wrestled and fought and played 
as they had wrestled and fought and played 
together for years. And the hours passed 
and the wind changed and the flames almost 
scorched him and Ab started up, looking 
about him into the wild aspect of the Fire 
Country; for the night had passed and the 
sun had risen and set again since the exhausted 
man had fallen upon the ground and become 
unconscious. 

Ab rolled instinctively a little away from the 
smoky sheets of flame and, sitting up, looked 
for Oak. He could not see him. He ran 



2l6 THE STORY OF AB 

wildly around among the rocks looking for 
him and despairingly called aloud his name. 
The moment his voice had been hoarsely 
lifted, "Oak!" the memory of all that had 
happened rushed upon him. He stood there 
in the red firelight a statue of despair. Oak 
was dead; he had killed Oak, and buried him 
with his own hands, and yet he had seen Oak 
but a minute ago! He had bounded through 
the flames and had wrestled and run races 
with Ab, and they had talked together, and 
yet Oak must be lying in the ground back 
there in the forest by the little hill. Oak was 
dead. How could he get out of the ground.'' 
Fear clutched at Ab's heart, his limbs trem- 
bled under him. He whimpered like a lost 
and friendless hound and crouched close to 
the hospitable fire. His brain wavered under 
the stress of strange new impressions. He re- 
called some mutterings of Old Mok about the 
dead, that they had been seen after it was 
known that they were deep in the ground, but 
he knew it was not good to speak or think of 
such things. Again Ab sprang to his feet. It 
would not do to shut his eyes, for then he saw 
plainly Oak in his shallow hole in the dark 
earth and the face Ab had hurried to cover 



A RACE WITH DREAD 217 

first when he was burying his friend, there 
under the trees. And so the night wore away, 
sleep coming fitfully from time to time. Ab 
could not explore his retreat in the strange 
firelight nor run the risks of another night 
journey across the wild beasts' chosen coun- 
try. He began to be hungry, with the fierce 
hunger of brute strength, sharpened by ter- 
rific labors, but he must wait for the morning. 
The night seemed endless. There was no re- 
lief from the thoughts which tortured him, 
but, at last, morning broke, and in action Ab 
found the escape he had longed for. 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE FIRE COUNTRY. 

It was light now and the sun shone fairly on 
Ab's place of refuge. As his senses brought 
to him full appreciation he wondered at the 
scene about him. He was in a glade so de- 
pressed as to be a valley. About it, to the 
east and north and west, in a wavering, toss- 
ing wall, rose the uplifting line of fire through 
which he had leaped, though there were spaces 
where the height was insignificant. On the 
south, and extending till it circled a trifle to 
east, rose a wall of rock, evidently the end of 
a forest-covered promontory, for trees grew 
thickly to its very edge and their green 
branches overhung its sheer descent. Coming 
from some crevice of the rocks on the east, 
and tumbling downward through the valley, 
was a riotous brook, which disappeared through 
some opening at the west. Within this area, 
thus hemmed in by fire and rock, appeared 
no living thing save the birds which sang 
upon the bushes beside the small stream's 

2l8 



11 



THE FIRE COUNTRY 219 

banks and the butterflies which hung above 
the flowers and all the insect world which 
joined in the soft, humming chorus of the 
morning. It was something that Ab looked 
upon with delighted wonder, but without un- 
derstanding. What he saw was not a mar- 
vel. It was but the result of one of many 
upheavals at a time when the earth's cooled 
shell was somewhat thinner than now and 
when earthquakes, though there were no cities 
to overthrow, at least made havoc sometimes 
by changing the face of nature. There had 
come a great semi-circular crack in the earth, 
near and extending to the line of the sheer 
rock range. The natural gas, the product of 
the vegetation of thousands of centuries be- 
fore, had found a chance to escape and had 
poured forth into the outer world. Some- 
thing, perhaps a lightning stroke and a flam- 
ing tree, perhaps some cave man making fire 
and consumed on the instant when he suc- 
ceeded, had ignited the sheet of rising gas, 
and the result was the wall of flame. It was 
all natural and commonplace, for the time. 
There were other upleaping flame sheets in the 
surrounding region forever burning — as there 
are in northern Asia to-day— but Ab knew of 



220 THE STORY OF AB 

these fires only from Old Mok's tales. He 
stood wonderstruck at what he saw about him. 
But this man in the valley was young and 
very strong, with tissues to be renewed, and 
the physical m.an within him clamored and 
demanded. He must eat. He ran forward 
and around, anxiously observant, and soon 
learned that at the western end of the valley, 
where the little creek tumbled through a rocky 
cut into a lower level, there was easy exit 
from the fire-encompassed and protected area. 
He clambered along the creek's rough, de- 
scending side. He emerged upon an easier 
slope and then found it possible to climb the 
hillside to the plane of the great wood. There 
must, he thought, be food of some sort, even 
for a man with only Oak's knife in his posses- 
sion! There was the forest and there were 
nuts. He was in the forest soon, among the 
gray-trunked, black-mottled beeches and the 
rough brown oaks. He found something of 
what he sought, the nuts lying under shed 
leaves, though the supply was scant. But 
nuts, to the cave man, made moderately good 
food, supplying a part of the sustenance he 
required, and Ab ate of what he could find 



THE FIRE COUNTRY 221 

and arose from the devouring search and 
looked about him. 

He was weaponless, save for the knife, and 
a flint knife was but a thing for closest strug- 
gle. He longed now for his ax and spear and 
the strong bow which could hurt so at a dis- 
tance. But there was one sort of weapon to 
be had. There was the club. He wandered 
about among the tops of fallen trees and 
wrenched at their dried limbs, and finally tore 
one away and broke off, later, with a prying 
leverage, what made a rough but available 
club for a cave man's purposes. It was much 
better than nothing. Then began a steady 
trot toward what should be fair life again. 
There were vague paths through the forest 
made by wild beasts. As he moved the man 
thought deeply. 

He thought of the. fire-wall, and could not 
with all his reasoning determine upon the 
cause of its existence, and so abandoned the 
subject as a thing, the nub of which was un- 
reachable. That was the freshest object in 
his mind and the first to be mentally disposed 
of. But there were other subjects which 
came in swift succession. As he went along 
with a dog's gait he was not in much terror, 



222 THE STORY OF AB 

practically weaponless as he was. His eye 
was good and he was going through the forest 
in the daylight. He was strong enough, club 
in hand, to meet the minor beasts. As for 
the others, if any of them appeared, there 
were the trees, and he could climb. So, as 
he trotted he could afford to think. 

And he thought much that day, this per- 
plexed man, our grandfather with so many 
''greats" before the word. He had nothing 
to divert him even in the selection of the course 
toward his cave. He noted not where the sun 
stood, nor in what direction the tiny head- 
waters of the rivulets took their course, nor 
how the moss grew on the trees. He traveled 
in the wood by instinct, by some almost un- 
explainable gift which comes to the thing of 
the woods. The wolf has it; the Indian has it; 
sometimes the white man of to-day has it. 

As he went Ab engaged in deeper and more 
sustained thought than ever before in all his 
life. He was alone; new and strange scenes 
had enlarged his knowledge and swift happen- 
ings had made keener his perceptions. For 
days his entire being had been powerfully 
affected by his meeting with Lightfoot at the 
Feast of the Mammoth and the events which 



THE FIRE COUNTRY 223 

had followed that meeting in such swift suc- 
cession. The tragedy of Oak's death had 
quickened his sensibilities. Besides, what had 
ensued latest had been what was required to 
make him in a condition for the divination of 
things. The wise agree that much stimulant or 
much deprivation enables the brain convolu- 
tions to do their work well, though deprivation 
gets the cleaner end. The asceticism of Mar- 
cus Aurelius was productive of greater results 
than the deep drinking of any gallant young 
Roman man of letters of whom he was a patron. 
The literature of fasting thinkers is something 
fine. Ab, after exerting his strength to the 
utmost for days, had not eaten of flesh, and 
the strong influences to which he was subjected 
were exerted upon a man still, practically, 
fasting. For a time, the rude and earth-born 
child of the cave was lifted into a region of 
comparative sentiment and imagination. It 
was an experience which affected materially 
all his later life. 

Ever to the trotting man came the feelings 
which must follow fierce love and deadly 
action and vague remorse and fear of some- 
thing indefinable. He saw the face and form 
of Lightfoot; he saw again the struggle, death- 



224 THE STORY OF AB 

ending, with the friend of youth and of mutual 
growing into manhood. He remembered dimly 
the half insane flight, the leaps across the 
dreaded morass and, more distinctly, the chase 
by the wolves. The aspect of the Fire Coun- 
try and of all that followed his awakening was, 
of course, yet fresh in his mind. He was 
burdened. 

Ever uprising and oppressing above all else 
was the memory of the man he had killed and 
buried, covering the face first, so that it might 
not look at him. Was Oak really dead.^ he 
asked himself again! Had not he, Ab, as soon 
as he slept again, seen, alive and well, the close 
friend of his.!* He clung to the vision. He 
reasoned as deeply as it was in him to reason. 

As he struggled in his mind to obtain light 
there came to him the fancy of other things 
dimly related to the death mystery which had 
perplexed him and all his kind. There must 
be some one who made the river rise and fall 
or the nut-bearing forest be either fruitful or 
the hard reverse. Who and what could it be.-* 
What should he do, what should all his friends 
do in the matter of relation to this unknown 
thing.'' 

With this day and hour did not come really 



THE FIRE COUNTRY 225 

the beginning of Ab's thought upon the sub- 
ject of what was, to him and those he knew, 
the supernatural. He had thought in the past 
— he could not help it — of the shadow and the 
echo. He remembered how he and Oak had 
talked about the echo, and how they had 
tried to get rid of the thing which had more 
than once called back to them insolently across 
the valley. Every word they shouted this 
hidden creature would mockingly repeat and 
there was no recourse for them. They had 
once fully armed themselves and, in a burst of 
desperate bravery, had resolved to find who 
and what the owner of this voice was and have, 
at least, a fight. They had crossed the valley 
and ranged about the woodland whence the 
voice seemed to have come, but they never 
found what they sought! 

The shadow which pursued them on sunny 
afternoons had puzzled them in another way. 
Very persistent had been the flat, black, 
earth-clinging and distorted thing which fol- 
lowed them so everywhere. What was this 
black, following thing, anyhow, this thing 
which swung its unsubstantial body around as 
one moved but which ever kept its own feet at 
the feet of the pursued, wherever there was no 
15 



226 THE STORY OF AB 

shade, and which lay there beside one so per- 
sistently? 

But the echoes and the shadows were noth- 
ing as compared with the things which came 
to one at night. What were those creatures 
which came when a man was sleeping? Why 
did they escape with the dawn and appear 
again only when he was asleep and helpless, 
at least until he awoke fairly and seized his ax? 

The sun rose high and dropped slowly down 
toward the west, where the far ocean was, and 
the shadows somewhat lengthened, but it was 
still light along the forest pathways and the 
untiring man still hurried on. He was now 
close to his country and becoming careless and 
at ease. But his imagination was still busy; 
he could not free himself of memory. There 
came to him still the vision of the friend he had 
buried, hiding his face first of all. The frenzy 
of his wish for knowing rushed again upon him. 
Where was Oak now? he demanded of himself 
and of all nature. * 'Where is Oak?" he yelled 
to the familiar trees beside his path. But the 
trees, even to the cave man, so close to them 
in the economy of wild life, so like them in his 
naturalness, could give no answer. 

So the cave man struggled in his dim, un- 



THE FIRE COUNTRY 227 

certain way with the eternal question: ''If a 
man die shall he live again?" So the human 
mind still struggles, after thousands of centuries 
have contributed to its development. A wall 
more impassable than the wall of flame Ab 
had so lately looked upon still rises between 
us and those who no longer live. We reach 
out for some knowledge of those who have died, 
and go almost into madness because we can 
grasp nothing. Silence unbroken, darkness 
impenetrable ever guard the mystery of death. 
In the long ages since the cave man ran that 
day, love and hope have in faith erected, be- 
yond the grim barriers of blackness and despair, 
fair pavilions of promise and consolation, but 
to the stern examiners of physical fact and 
reality there has come no news from beyond 
the walls of silence since. We clamor tear- 
fully for somiC word from those who are dead, 
but no answer comes. So Ab groped and 
strove alone in the forest, in his youth and 
ignorance, and in the youth and ignorance of 
our race. 

Upon the pathway along the river's bank 
Ab emerged at last. All was familiar to him 
now. There, by the clump of trees in the flat 
below, was the place where he and Oak had 



228 THE STORY OF AB 

dug the pit when they were but mere boys and 
had learned their first important lessons in 
sterner woodcraft. Soon came in sight, as he 
ran, the entrance to the cave of his own family. 
He was home again. But he was not the one 
who had left that rude habitation three days 
before. He had gone away a youth. He 
had come back one who had suffered and 
thought. He came back a man. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT. 

LiGHTFOOT, when Ab seized Oak, had fled 
away from the two infuriated men, as the hare 
runs, and had sped into the forest. She had 
the impetus of new tear now and ran swiftly 
as became her name, never looking behind 
her, nor did she slacken her pace, though 
panting and exhausted, until she found her- 
self approaching the cave where lived her play- 
mate, Moonface, not more than an hour's run 
from her own home. 

The fleeing girl was fortunate in stumbling 
upon her friend as soon as she came into the 
open space about the cave. Moonface was 
enjoying herself lazily that afternoon. She 
was leaning back idly in a swing of vines to 
which she had braided a flexible back, and 
was blinking somnolently in the sunshine as 
the visitor leaped from the wood. Moonface 
recognized her friend, gave a quavering cry of 
delight and came slipping and rolling reck- 
lessly to the ground to meet her. Lightfoot 

229 



230 THE STORY OF AB 

uttered no word. She stood breathless, and 
was rather carried than led by Moonface to 
an easy seat, moss-padded, upon twisted tree 
roots, which was that young lady's ordinary 
resting-place. Upon this seat the two sank, 
one overcome with past fear and present 
fatigue, and the other with an all-absorbing 
and demanding curiosity. It was beyond the 
ordinary scope of the self-restraining forces in 
Moonface to await with calm the recovery of 
Lightfoot's breath and powers of conversation. 
She pinched and shook her friend and de- 
manded, half-crying but impatiently, some 
explanation. It was a great hour for Moon- 
face, the greatest in her life. Here was her 
friend and dictator panting and terrified like 
some weak, hunted-down thing of the wood. 
It was a marvel. At last Lightfoot spoke: 

''They are fighting at the foot of the hill!" 
she said, and Moonface at once guessed the 
whole story, for she was not blind, this wide- 
mouthed creature. 

*'Why did you run away.'*" she asked. 

''I ran because I was scared. One of 
them must be dead befor,e this time. I am 
glad I am alive myself," Lightfoot gasped. 
Then the girl covered her face with her hands 



41 



THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT 231 

as she recalled Ab's face, distorted by passion 
and murderous hate, and Oak's equally mad- 
dened look as, before the onrush, he had 
grasped her so firmly that the marks of his 
fingers remained blue upon her arms and slen- 
der waist and neck. 

Then Lightfoot, slow to regain her compos- 
ure, told tremblingly the story of all that had 
occurred, finding comfort in the unaffrighted 
look upon the face, as well as in the reassur- 
ing talk, of her easy-going, unimaginative and 
cheerful and faithful companion. She re- 
mained as a guest at the cave overnight and 
the next forenoon, when she took her way for 
home, she was accompanied by Moonface. 
Gradually, as the hours passed, Lightfoot re- 
gained something of her usual frame of mind 
and a little of her ordinary manner of careless 
light-heartedness, bvit when home had been 
reached and the girls had rested and eaten 
and she heard Moonface telling anew for her 
the story of the flight in the wood, while her 
father, Hilltop, and her two strapping brothers 
listened with interest, but with no degree of 
excitement, she felt again the wild alarm and 
horror and uncertainty which had affected her 
when first she fled from what was to her so 



232 THE STORY OF AB 

dreadful. She crept away from the cave door 
near which the others sat enjoying the balmy 
midsummer afternoon, beckoning to one of 
her brothers to follow her, as the big fellow 
did unquestioningly, for Lightfoot had been, 
almost from young girlhood, the dominant 
force in the family, even the strong father, 
though it was contrary to the spirit of the 
time, admiring and yielding to his one daugh- 
ter without much comment. The great, 
hulking youth, well armed and ready for any 
adventure, joined her, nothing loth, and the 
two disappeared, like shadows, in the depths 
of the forest. 

Lightfoot had been the housekeeper in the 
cave of Hilltop, the cave of the greatest hun- 
ter of the region, young despite the years 
which had encompassed him, and father of two 
boys who were fine specimens of the better 
men of the time. They were splendid whelps, 
and this slim thing, whom they had cared for 
as she grew, dominated them easily, though 
the age was not one of vast family affection, 
while chivalry, of course, did not exist. Hill- 
top's wife had died two years before, and 
Lightfoot, with unconscious force, had taken 
her mother's place. There was none other 



THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT 233 

with woman's ways to help the men in the 
rock-guarded home on the windy hill. Hilltop 
had not been altogether unthinking all this 
time. He had often looked upon his daugh- 
ter's friend, the jolly, swart and well-fed Moon- 
face, and had much approved of her, but, to- 
day, as he listened to her story, he did not pay 
such attention as was demanded by the inter- 
est of the theme. An occasional death, though 
it were the killing of one cave man by another, 
was not a matter of huge importance. He 
was not inflamed in any way by what he heard, 
but as he looked and listened to the comfort- 
able young person who was speaking, the idea, 
hastened it may be by some loving and do- 
mestic instinct, grew slowly in his brain that 
she might make for him as excellent a mate as 
any other of the "good matches" to be found 
in the immediately surrounding country. He 
was a most directly reasoning person, this 
Hilltop, best of hunters and generally re- 
spected on the forest ridges. After the thought 
once dawned upon him, it grew and grew, and 
an idea fairly developed in Hilltop's mind 
meant action. His fifty-five years of age had 
hardly cooled and had certainly not nearly 
approached to freezing the blood in his out- 



234 THE STORY OF AB 

standing veins. He had a suit to make, and 
make at once. That he might have no inter- 
ruption he bade Stone-Arm, his remaining son, 
who sat on a rock near by, and who had hs- 
tened, open-mouthed, to the recital of Moon- 
face, to seek his brother and Lightfoot in the 
forest path. There might be beasts abroad 
and two men were better than one, said this 
crafty father-hunter-lover. 

The boy, clever tracker as a red Indian 
or Australian trailer, soon found the path his 
brother and Lightfoot had taken and joined 
them. As he listened to what they were say- 
ing he was glad he had been sent to follow 
them. They were hastening toward the val- 
ley. The trees were beginning to cast long 
shadows when the three came to where the 
more abrupt hillside reached the slope and 
where the torn ground, broken limbs and twigs 
and deep-indented footprints in the soil gave 
glaring evidence to the eye of yesterday's strug- 
gle. But, aside from all this, there was some- 
thing else. There was a carpet of yellowish- 
brown leaves, at the edge of the circle of fray, 
where a man had fallen. On the clean stretch 
of evenly rain-packed leaves there were spots 
from which the scarlet had but lately faded 



THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT 235 

into crimson. There was a place where the 
surface was disturbed and sunken a little. All 
three knew that a man had died there. 

The two 3'oung men and their sister stood 
together uttering no word. The men were 
amazed. The woman half comprehended all. 
She did not hesitate a moment. Guided by a 
sure instinct, Lightfoot reached, without 
thought or conscious search, the spot of un- 
natural earth which reared itself so near to 
them, the spot where was fresh stone-covered 
soil and where a man was buried. The pile 
of stones, newly heaped upon the moist earth, 
told their story. 

Someone was buried there, but whom? 
Was it Oak or Ab.? 

"Shall I dig.^" said Stone-Arm, making 
ready for the task, while Branch, his elder 
brother, prepared for work as well. 

♦'No! No!" cried Lightfoot. "He is buried 
deep and the stones are over him. It will be 
night soon and the wolves and hyenas would 
be here before we could get away. Let it be. 
Someone is there, but the one who killed him 
has buried him. He will come back!" The 
two boys were silent, and Lightfoot led the 
way toward home. 



236 THE STORY OF AB 

When the three reached the cave of Hilltop 
the sun was setting. Something had hap- 
pened at the cave, but there arises at this 
point no stern demand for going into details. 
Hilltop, brave man, was no laggard in wooing, 
and Moonface was not a nervous young person. 
When the other members of the household 
reached the cave Moonface was already in- 
stalled as mistress. There would be no repri- 
sals from an injured family. The girl had 
lived with her ancient father, whom she had 
half-supported and who would, possibly, be 
transplanted to Hilltop's cave for such potter- 
ing life as he was still capable of during the 
rest of his existence. The new regime was 
fairly established. 

The arrangement suited Lightfoot well 
enough. This astounding stepmother had 
been her humble but faithful friend. Light- 
foot was a ruling woman spirit wherever she 
was, and she knew it, though she bowed at all 
times to the rule of strength as the only law. 
Nevertheless she knew how to get her own 
way. With Moonface, everything was easy 
for her and she found it rather pleasant than 
otherwise to find the other young woman made 
suddenly a permanent resident of the cave in 



THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT 237 

which she had been born and had lived all her 
life. As the two girls met, and the situation 
was curtly announced by Hilltop, their faces 
were worth the seeing. There was alarm and 
hopefulness upon the countenance of Moon- 
face, sudden astonishment and indignation, 
and then reflection, upon the face of Light- 
foot. After a few moments of thought both 
girls laughed cheerfully. 

The story of the newly found grave made 
but little impression upon the group and Light- 
foot, the only one of the household who thought 
much about it, thought silently. To her the 
single question was: * 'Who lay there?" There 
was nothing strange to the others of the family 
in the thought that one man should have killed 
another, and no one attached blame to or pro- 
posed punishment of the slayer. Sometimes 
after such a happening, the cave man who had 
slain another might have a rock rolled sud- 
denly upon him from a height, or in passing a 
thicket have the flint head of a spear driven 
through him, but this was only the deed, per- 
haps, of an enraged father or brother, not in 
any sense a matter of course in the way of jus- 
tice, and even such attempt at reprisal was 
not the rule. 



238 THE STORY OF AB 

But in the bosom of Lightfoot was a weight 
like a stone. It was as heavy, she thought, 
as one of the stones on the bare ground over 
the body of the man who lay there in the dark 
earth, because he had run after her. Who 
was it.? It might be Ab! And all through the 
night the girl tossed uneasily on her bed of 
leaves, as she did for nights to come. 

As for Moonface, who shall say what that 
rotund and hairy young person thought when 
the family had settled down to the changed 
order of things and she had adjusted herself 
to the duties of a matron in her new home.^* 
She was not less broadly buoyant and beam- 
ing, but who can tell that, when she noted 
Lightfoot's burning look and thoughtful mien, 
Moonface did not sometimes think of the two 
young men who, but yesterday, had rejoiced 
in such strength and vigor and charm of power 
and who were so good to look upon.!* she was 
a wife now, but to another sort of man. Even 
the feminine among writers of erotic novels 
have not yet revealed what the young moon 
thinks when she ''holds the old moon in her 
arms." Anyhow, Hilltop was a defense and 
a great provider of food. He was a fine figure 
of a man, too. 



THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT 239 

Lightfoot was not much in the cave now. 
She Hngered about the open space or wandered 
in the near wood. A woman's instinct told 
her to be out-doors all the time she could. A 
man would seek her, but with the thought 
came an awful dread. Which man.-* One 
afternoon she saw something. 

Two gray forms flitted across an open space 
in the forest near the cave, and in a moment 
the girl was in a treetop. What followed 
was the unexpected. Close behind the gray 
things came a man, fully armed, straight, 
eager and alert and silent in his wood sur- 
roundings, with eyes roving over and searching 
all the open space about the cave of Hilltop. 
The man was Ab. 

The girl gave a shriek of delight, then, 
alarmed at the sound she had made, cowered 
behind a refuge of leaves and branches. She 
was happy beyond all her experience before. 
The question which had been in all her 
thoughts was answered! It was Oak, not Ab, 
who lay in the ground on the hillside. And, 
even as she realized this fully, there was a 
swift upward scramble and the young cave man 
was beside her on the limb. There was no 
running away this time. The girl's face told 



240 THE STORY OF AB 

« 

its story well enough, so well that Ab, still 
lately doubting, though resolved, knew that 
his fitting mate belonged to him. There came 
to them the happiness which ever comes to 
lovers, be they man or bird or beast, and then 
came swift conclusion. He told her she must 
go with him at once, told her of the new cave 
and of all he had done, but the girl, well aware 
of the dangers of the beast-haunted region 
where the new home had been selected, was 
thoroughly alarmed. Then Ab told her of the 
little flying spears which Old Mok had made 
for him, and about the wonderful bow which 
sent them to their mark, and the girl was re- 
assured and soon began to feel exceedingly 
brave and proud of her lover and his prowess. 
No need of carrying off a girl by force or 
craft on this occasion, for Hilltop had fully 
recognized Ab's strength and quality. The 
two went to the cave together and there was 
eating and then, later, two skin-clad human 
beings, a man and a woman, went away to- 
gether through the forest. Their journey was 
a long one and a careful lookout was necessary 
as they hurried along a pathway of the strange 
country. But the cave was reached at last, 



THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT 241 

just as the sun burned red and gave a rosy 
glow to everything. 

Silently the two came into the open space 
in front of what was to be their fortress and 
abode. Solid was the rock about the entrance 
and narrow the blocked opening. Smoke 
curled in a pretty spiral upward from where 
smoldered the fire Ab had made the day before. 
Lightfoot looked upon it all and laughed joy- 
ously, though tremblingly, for she had now 
given herself to a man and he had brought her 
to his place of living. 

As for the man, he looked down upon the 
girl delightedly. His pulse beat fast. He 
put his arm about her and together they en- 
tered the cave. There was a marriage but no 
ceremony. Just as robins mate when they 
have met or as the buck and doe, so faithful 
man and wife became these two. 

Darkness fell, the fire at the cave entrance 
flashed up fiercely and Ab and Lightfoot were 
**at home." 
i6 



CHAPTER XXII. 

THE HONEYMOON. 

The sun shone brilliantly, birds were sing- 
ing and the balsam firs gave forth their morn- 
ing incense as Ab and Lightfoot issued from 
their cave. They had eaten heartily, and 
came out buoyant and delighted with the 
world which was theirs. The chattering of 
the waterfowl along the river reached their 
ears faintly, the leaves were moved by a gentle 
breeze, there was a hum of insects in the air 
and the very pulse of living could be felt. Ab 
carried his new weapon proudly, hungering 
for the love and admiration of this girl of his, 
and eager to show her its powers and to ex- 
hibit his own skill. At his back hung his 
quiver of mammoth bone. His bow, un- 
strung, was in his hand. In front of the cave 
was a bare area of many yards in extent, 
then came a few scattering trees and, at a 
distance of perhaps two hundred yards, the 
forest began. Across the open space of 
ground, with its great mass of branches 

242 



THE HONEYMOON 243 

crushed together not far from the cave's mouth, 
had fallen one of the gigantic conifers of the 
time, and was there gradually decaying, its 
huge limbs and bole, disintegrating, and dry 
as punk, affording, close at hand, a vast fuel 
supply, the exceptional value of which Ab had 
recognized when making his selection of a 
home. Near the edge of the little clearing 
made by nature, Ab seated himself upon a 
log, and drawing Lightfoot down to a seat be- 
side him, began enthusiastically to make clear 
the marvels of the weapon he had devised and 
which he and Old Mok had developed into 
something startling in its possibilities. 

All details of the explanation made by the 
earnest young hunter, it is probable, Lightfoot 
did not comprehend. She looked proudly at 
him, fingering the flint pointed arrows curi- 
ously, yet seemed rather intent upon the man 
than the wood and stone. But when he 
pointed at a great knot in a tree near them 
and bent his bow and sent an arrow fairly 
into the target, and when, even with her 
strength, Lightfoot could not pull the arrow 
out, she was wild with admiration and excite- 
ment. She begged to be taught how to use, 
herself, this wonderful new weapon, for she 



244 THE STORY OF AB 

recognized as readily as could anyone its 
adaptation to the use of one of inferior 
strength. The delighted lover was certainly 
as desirous as she that she should some day 
become an expert. He handed her the bow, 
retaining, slung over his shoulder, fortunately, 
as it developed, the bone quiver full of Old 
Mok's best arrows. He taught her, first, how 
to bend and string the bow. There were 
failures and successes, and there was much 
laughter from the merry-hearted Lightfoot. 
Finally, it happened that Ab was not just content 
with the quality of the particular arrow which 
he had selected for Lightfoot's use. He had 
taken a slender one with a clean flint head, 
but something about the notch had not quite 
suited him. With a thin, hard stone scraper, 
carried in a pouch of his furry garb, he began 
rasping and filing at this notch to make it bet- 
ter fit the string of tendons, while Lightfoot, 
with the bow still strung, stood beside him. 
At last, tired of holding the thing in her hands, 
she passed it over her head and one shoulder 
and stood there jauntily, with both hands 
free, while the man scraped away with the 
one little flake of flint in his possession, and, 
as he worked, paused from time to time to 



THE HONEYMOON 245 

note how well he was rounding the notch in 
the end of the slight hardwood shaft. It was 
just as he was holding up to her eyes the 
arrow, now made almost an ideal one, accord- 
ing to his fancy, when there came to the ears 
of the two a sound, distinct, ominous and im- 
plying to them deadly peril, a sound such 
that, though nerves spoke and muscles acted, 
they were very near the momentary paralysis 
which sometimes come from sudden fearful 
shock. From close beside them came the half 
grunt and half growl of the great cave bear! 
With the instinct born of generations, each 
leaped independently toward the nearest tree, 
and, with the unconscious strength and celer- 
ity which comes to even wild animals with the 
dread of death at hand, each clambered to a 
treetop before a word was spoken. Scarcely 
had either left the ground before there was a 
rush into the open glade of a huge brown 
hairy form, and this was instantly followed by 
another. As Ab and Lightfoot climbed far 
amid the branches and looked down, they saw 
upreared at the base of each tree the figure of 
one of the monsters whose hungry exclama- 
tions they knew so well. They had been 
careless, these two lovers, especially the man. 



246 THE STORY OF AB 

He had known well, but for the moment had 
forgotten how beast-infested was the imme- 
diate area about his new home, and now had 
come the consequence of his thoughtlessness. 
He and his wife had been driven to the tree- 
tops within a few yards of their own hearth- 
stone, leaving their weapons inside their cave! 
Alarmed and panting, after settling down 
to a firm seat far aloft, each looked about to 
see what had become of the other. Each was 
at once reassured as to the present, and each 
became much perplexed as to the future. The 
cave bear, like his weaker and degenerate de- 
scendant, the grizzly of to-day, had the quality 
of persistence well developed, and both Ab 
and Lightfoot knew that the seige of their 
enemies would be something more than for the 
moment. The trees in which they perched 
were very close to the wood, but not so close 
that the forest could be reached by passing 
from branch to branch. Their two trees were 
not far from each other, but their branches 
did not intermingle. There was a distinct 
opening between them. The tree up which 
Lightfoot had scrambled was a great fir tower- 
ing high above the strong beech in which Ab 
had found his safety. Branches of the fir 



THE HONEYMOON 247 

hung down until between their ends and Ab's 
less lofty covert there were but a few yards of 
space. Still, one trying to reach the beech 
from the lofty iir would find an unpleasantly 
wide gap. 

Each of the creatures in the tree was un- 
armed. Ab still bore the quiver full of ad- 
mirable arrows, and across the breast of Light- 
foot still hung the strong bow which she had 
slung about her in such blithesome mood. 
Soon began an exceedingly earnest conversa- 
tion. Ab, eager to reach again the fair crea- 
ture who now belonged to him, was half fran- 
tic with rage, and Lightfoot was far from her 
usual mood of careless gaiety. The two talked 
and considered, though but to little purpose, 
and, finally, after weary hours, the night came 
on. It was a trying situation. Man and woman 
were in equal danger. The bears were hungry 
— and the cave bear knew his quarry. The 
beasts beneath were not disposed to leave the 
prey they had imprisoned aloft. The night 
grew, but either Ab or Lightfoot, looking 
down, could see the glare of small, hungry 
eyes. There was gentle talk between the two, 
for this was a great strait and, in straits, souls, 
be they prehistoric, historic or of to-day, 



248 THE STORY OF AB 

always come closer together. Very much 
more loving lovers, even, than they were be- 
fore, became the two perched aloft that night. 
It was a comfort for the wedded pair to call to 
each other through the darkness. After a 
time, however, muscles grew lax with the con- 
tinued strain. Weariness clouded the spirits 
of the couple and almost overcame them and 
only the thing which has always, in great stress, 
given the greatest strength in this world — the 
love of male and female — sustained them. 
They stood the test pretty well. To sleep in 
a tree top was an easy thing for them, with 
the precautions, simple and natural, of the 
time. Each plaited a withe of twigs with 
which to be tied to the tree or limb, and rest- 
ing in the hollow nest where some great limb 
joined the bole, slept as sleep tired children, 
until the awakening of nature awoke these 
who were nature's own. When Ab awoke, he 
had more on his mind than Lightfoot, for he 
was the one who must care for the two. He 
blinked and wondered where he was. Then 
he remembered all, suddenly. He looked 
across anxiously at a slender brown thing 
lying asleep, coiled so close to the bole of the 
tree to which she was bound that she seemed 



THE HONEYMOON 249 

almost a part of it. Then he looked down, 
and, after what he saw, thought very seriously. 
The bears were there! He looked up at the 
bright sky and all about him, and inhaled all 
the fragrance of the forest, and felt strong, 
and that he knew what he should do. He 
called aloud. 

The girl awoke, frightened. She would have 
fallen had she not been bound to the tree. 
Gradually, the full meaning of the situation 
dawned upon her and she began to cry. She 
was hungry, her limbs were stiffened by her 
bands, and there was death below. But there, 
close to her, was the Man. His voice grad- 
ually reassured her. He was becoming angry 
now, almost raging. Here he was, the lord 
of a cave, independent and master as much 
as any other man whom he knew, perched in 
one tree while his bride of a day was in the 
top of another, yet kept apart from her by the 
brutes below! 

He had decided what to do, and now he 
talked to Lightfoot with all the frankness of 
the strong male who felt that he had another 
to care for, and who realized his responsibilit}^ 
and authority together. As the strength and 
decided personality of the young man came to 



250 THE STORY OF AB 

her through his voice, the young woman drew 
her scanty fur robe about her and checked her 
tears. She became comparatively calm and 
reasonable. 

The tree in which Lightfoot had found 
refuge had many long slender branches lower- 
ing toward the giant beech into which the man 
had made his retreat. Ab argued that it was 
possible — barely possible — for Lightfoot's com- 
pact, agile, slender body to be launched in 
just the right way from one of the branches of 
the taller tree, and, swinging in its descent 
across the space between the two, lodge among 
the branches of the beech with him. Strong 
arms ready to clasp her as she came and to 
withstand the shock and to hold her safely he 
promised and, to enforce his plea, he pointed 
out that, unless they thus took their fate in 
hand, there was starvation awaiting them as 
they were, while carrying out his plan, if any 
accident befell, there was only swift though 
dreadful death to reckon with. There was 
one chance for their lives and that chance 
must be taken. Ab called to his young wife: 

''Crawl out upon a branch above me, swing 
down from it, swing hard and throw yourself 



THE HONEYMOON 251 

to me. I will catch you and hold you. I am 
strong. " 

The woman, with all faith in the man, still 
demurred. It was a great test, even for the 
times and the occasion. But hunger was upon 
her and she was cold and was, naturally, very 
brave. She lowered herself and climbed down 
and reached an out-extending limb, and there, 
across the gap, she saw Ab with his strong legs 
twined about the uprearing branch along which 
he laid, with giant brown arms stretched out 
confidently and with eyes steadily regarding 
her, eyes which had love and longing and a 
lot of fight in them. She walked out along 
the limb, holding herself safely by a firm hand- 
hold on the limb above, until the one her bare 
feet rested upon swayed and tipped uncer- 
tainly. Then came her time of trial of nerve 
and trust. Suddenly she stooped, caught the 
lower limb with her hands and then swung 
beneath it, hanging by her hands alone, and, 
hand over hand, passed herself along until she 
reached almost its end. Then she began 
swaying back and forth. She was but a few 
yards above Ab now, dangling in mid-air, 
while, below her, the two hungry bears had 
rushed together and were looking upward with 



252 THE STORY OF AB 

red, anticipating eyes, the ooze coming from 
their mouths. The moment was awful. Soon 
she must be a mangled thing devoured by 
frightful beasts, or else a woman with a life 
renewed. She looked at Ab, and, with courage 
regained, prepared for the great effort which 
must end all or gain a better lease of life. 

She swung back and forth, each drawing up 
and outreach and flexible motion of her arms 
giving more momentum to the sway and con- 
serving force for the launch of herself she was 
about to make. The desperation and strength 
of a wood-wise creature, so bravely combined, 
alone enabled her to obey Ab's hoarse com- 
mand. 

Ab, with his arms outreaching in their 
strength, feeling the fierce eyes of the hungry 
bears below boring into his very heart, leaned 
forward and upward as the swing of the woman 
reached its climax. With a cry of warning, 
the woman launched herself and shot down- 
ward and forward, like a bolt to its mark, a 
very desirable lump of femininity as appear- 
ing in mid-air, but one somewhat forcible in its 
alighting. 

Ab was strong, but when that girl landed 
fairly in his brawny arms, as she did beauti- 



THE HONEYMOON 253 

fully, it was touch and go, for a fraction of a 
second, whether both should fall to the ground 
together or both be saved. He caught her 
deftly, but there was a great shock and swing 
and then, with a vast effort, there came re- 
covery and the man drew himself, shaking, 
back to the support of the branch from which 
he had been almost wrenched away, at the 
same time placing beside him the object he 
had just caught. 

There was absolute silence for a moment or 
two between these unconventional lovers to 
whom had come escape from a hard situation. 
They were drawing deep breaths and recover- 
ing an equilibrium. There they sat together 
on the strong branch, each of them as secure 
and, for the moment, as perfectly at home as 
if lying on a couch in the cave. Each of them 
was panting and each of them rejoicing. It 
was unlikely that upon their trained, robust 
nerves the life-endangering episode of a mo- 
ment could have a more than passing effect. 
They sat so together for some minutes with 
arms entwined, still drawing deep breaths, 
and, a little later, began to laugh chucklingly, 
as breath came to be spared for such exhibi- 
tion of human feeling. Gradually, the in- 



254 THE STORY OF AB 

drawing and expelling of the glorious air 
shortened. The two had regained their nor- 
mal condition and Ab's face lengthened and 
the lines upon it became more distinct. He 
was all himself again, but in no dallying mood. 
He gave a triumphant whoop which echoed 
through the forest, shook his clenched hand 
savagely at the brutes below and reached to- 
ward Lightfoot for the bow which hung about 
her shoulders. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

MORE OF THE HONEYMOON. 

The brown, downy woman knew, on the 
instant, what was her husband's mood and 
immediate intent when he thus shouted and 
took into his own keeping again the stiff bow 
which hung about her shoulders. She knew 
that her lord was not merely in a glad, but 
that he was also in a vengeful frame of mind, 
that he wanted from her what would enable 
him to kill things, and that, equipped again, 
he was full of the spirit of fight. She knew 
that, of the four animals grouped together, 
two huge creatures of the ground and two 
slighter ones perched in a tree top, the chances 
were that the condition of those below had 
suddenly become the less preferable. 

The bow was about Ab's shoulders instantly, 
and then this preposterous young gentleman 
of the period turned to the woman and laughed, 
and caught her in one of his arms a little closer, 
and drew her up against him and laid his cheek 
against her own for a moment and drew it 

255 



256 THE STORY OF AB 

away and laughed again. The kiss, it is be- 
Heved, had not fully developed itself in the 
cave man's time, but there were substitutes. 
Then, releasing her, he said gleefully and 
chuckingly, *' follow me;" and they clambered 
down the bole of the beech together until they 
reached the biggest and very lowest limb of 
all. It was perhaps twenty feet above the 
ground. A little below their dangling feet the 
hungry bears, hitherto more patient, now, 
with their expected prey so close at hand, be- 
coming desperately excited, ran about, frothing 
and foaming and red-eyed, uprearing them- 
selves in awful nearness, at times, in their 
eagerness to reach the prey which they had so 
awaited and which, to their intelligence, 
seemed about falling into their jaws. They 
had so driven into trees before, and finally 
consumed exhausted cave men and women. 
As bears went, they were doubtless logical 
animals. They could not know that there 
had come into possession of this particular 
pair of creatures of the sort they had occasion- 
ally eaten, a trifling thing of wood and sinew 
string and flint point, which was destined 
henceforth to make a decided change in the 
relative condition of the biped and quadruped 



MORE OF THE HONEYMOON 257 

hunters of the time. How could they know 
that something small and sharp would fly 
down and sting them more deeply than they 
had ever been stung before, that it would 
sting so deeply that their arteries might 
be cut, or their hearts pierced and that 
then they must lie down and die? The well- 
thrown spear had been, in other ages, a vast 
surprise to the carnivora of the period, but 
there was something yet to learn. 

When they had reached the huge branch 
so near the ground both Ab and Lightfoot 
were for a moment startled and lifted their 
feet instinctively, but it was only for a moment 
in the case of the man. He knew that he 
was perfectly safe and that he had with him 
an engine of death. He selected his best and 
strongest arrow, he fitted it carefully to the 
string and then, as his mother had done years 
before above the hyena which sought her 
child, he reached one foot down as far as 
he could, and swung it back and forth tan- 
talizingly, just above the larger of the hungry 
beasts below. The monster, fierce with hun- 
ger and the desire for prey, roared aloud and 
upreared himself by the tree trunk and tore 
the bark with his strong claws, throwing back 
17 



258 THE STORY OF AB 

his great head as he looked upward at the 
quarry so near him and yet just beyond his 
reach. This was the man's opportunity. Ab 
drew back the arrow till the flint head rested 
close by his out-straining hand and the tough 
wood of the bow creaked under the thrust of 
his muscled arm. Then he released the shaft. 
So close together were man and bear that 
archer's skill of aim was not required. The 
brown target could not be missed. The arrow 
struck with a tear and the flint head drove 
through skin and tissue till its point protruded 
at the back of the great brute's neck. The 
bear fell suddenly backward, then rose again 
and reached blindly at its neck with its huge 
fore-paws, while from where the arrow had 
entered the blood came out in spurts. Sud- 
denly the bear ceased its appalling roars and 
started for the cave. There had come to it 
the instinct which makes such great beasts 
seek to die alone. It rushed at the narrow 
entrance but its course was scarcely noted by 
the couple in the tree. The other bear, the 
female, was seeking to reach them in no less 
savage mood than had animated her stricken 
mate. 

Not often, when the cave man first learned 



MORE OF THE HONEYMOON 259 

the use of the bow, came to him such fortune 
with a first strong shot as that which had so 
come to Ab. Again he selected a good arrow, 
again shot his strongest and best, but the 
shaft only buried itself in the shoulder and 
served but to drive to absolute madness the 
raging creature thus sorely hurt. The for- 
est echoed with the roaring of the infuriated 
animal, and as she reared herself clambering 
against the tree the tough fiber was rended 
away in great slivers, and the man and woman 
were glad that the trunk w^as thick and that 
they owned a natural citadel. Again and 
again did Ab discharge his arrows and still fail 
to reach a vital part of the terror below. She 
fairly bristled with the shafts. It was inevit- 
able that she must die, but when the last shot 
had sped she v^as still infuriate and, appar- 
ently, as strong as ever. The archer looked 
down upon her with some measure of de- 
spondency in his face, but by no means with 
despair. He and his bride must wait. That 
was all, and this he told to Lightfoot. That 
intelligent and reliable young helpmate of a 
few hours, who had looked upon what had 
occurred with an awed admiration, did not 
exhibit any depression. Her husband, fortu- 



26o THE STORY OF AB 

nate Benedict, had produced a great effect 
upon her by his feat. She felt herself something 
like a queen. Had she known enough and had 
the fancies of the Ruth of some thousands of 
decades later she would have told him how 
completely thenceforth his people were her 
people and his gods her gods. 

The she bear became finally somewhat 
quieted; she tore less angrily at the tree and 
made less of the terrible clamor which had for 
the moment driven from the immediate region 
all the inmates of the wood, for none save the 
cave tiger cared to be in the immediate neigh- 
borhood of the cave bear. Her roars changed 
into roaring growls, and she wandered stag- 
geringly about. At last she started blindly 
and weakly toward the forest, and just as she 
had passed beneath its shadow, paused, 
weaved back and forth for a moment, and then 
fell over heavily. She was dead. 

Not an action of the beast had escaped the 
eyes of Ab. Well he knew the ways of 
wounded things. As the bear toppled over he 
gave utterance to a whoop and, with a word 
to the girl beside him, slid lightly to the 
ground, she following him at once. It was 
very good to be upon the earth again. Ab 



MORE OF THE HONEYMOON 261 

stamped with his feet and stretched his arms, 
and the woman danced upon the grass and 
laughed gleefully. But this was only for a 
moment or so. Ab started toward the cave, 
and as he reached the entrance, gave a great 
cry of rage and dismay. Lightfoot ran to his 
side and even her ready laugh failed her when 
she looked upon his perplexed and stormy 
countenance and saw what had happened. 
The rump of the monster he bear was what 
she looked upon. The beast, in his instinctive 
effort to crawl into some dark place to die, 
had fairly driven himself into the cave's en- 
trance, dislodging some of the stones Ab had 
placed there, had wedged himself in firmly, 
and had died before he could extricate his 
great carcass. The two human beings were 
homeless and, with all the arrows gone, 
weaponless, in the -midst of a region so 
dangerously infested that any movement afoot 
was but inviting death. They were hungry, 
too, for many hours had passed since they 
had tasted food. It was not matter of sur- 
prise that even the stout-hearted cave man 
stood aghast. 

The occasion for Ab's alarm was fully veri- 
fied. From the spot where the cave bear lay 



262 THE STORY OF AB 

at the toiest's edge came a sharp, snapping 
growl. The lurking hyenas had found the 
food, and a long, inquiring howl from another 
direction told that the wolves had scented it 
and were gathering. For the instant Ab was 
himself almost helpless with fear. The woman 
was simply nerveless. Then the man, so 
accustomed to physical danger, recovered 
himself. He sprang forward, seized a stout 
fragment of limb which might serve as a sort 
of weapon, and, turning to the woman, said 
only the one word *'fire." 

Lightfoot understood and life came to her 
again. None in all the region could make a 
fire more swiftly than she. Her quick eye 
detected just the base she wanted in a 
punkish fragment of wood and the harder and 
pointed bit of limb to be used in making the 
friction. In a time scarcely worth the noting 
the point was whirling about and burning into 
the wooden base, twirling with a skill and 
velocity not comprehensible by us to-day, for 
the cave people had perfected wonderfully 
this greatest manual art of the time, and 
Lightfoot, muscular and enduring, was, as 
already said, in this thing the cleverest among 
the clever. Ab, with ready club in hand, ad- 



MORE OF THE HONEYMOON 263 

vanced cautiously toward the point at the 
wood's edge where lay the body of the bear. 
He paused as he came near enough to see 
what was happening. Four great hyenas 
were tearing eagerly at the flesh of the dead 
brute, and behind them, deeper in the wood, 
were shining eyes, and Ab knew that the wolf 
pack was gathering. The bear consumed, 
the man and woman, without defense, would 
surely be devoured. It was a desperate strait, 
but, though he was weaponless, there was the 
cave man's great resort, the fire, and there 
might be a chance for life. To seek the tree 
tops would be dangerous even now, and once 
ensconced in such harborage, only starvation 
was awaiting. He moved back noiselessly, 
with as little apparent motion as possible, for 
he did not want to attract the attention of 
the gleaming eyes in, the distance, until he 
came near Lightfoot again, and then he aban- 
doned caution of movement and began tearing 
frantically at the limbs and debris of the 
great dead conifer, and to build a semicircular 
fence in front of the cave entrance. He did 
the swift work of half a score of men in his 
desperation and anxiety, his great strength 
serving him well in his compelling strait. 



264 THE STORY OF AB 

Meanwhile the stick twirled and rasped in 
the hands of the brown woman seated on the 
ground, and at last a tiny thread of smoke 
arose. The continued friction had done its 
work. Deft himself at fire-making, Ab knew 
just what was wanted at this moment and ran 
to his wife's side with punk from the dead 
tree, rubbed to a powder in his hard hands. 
The powder, poured gently down upon the 
point where the increasing heat had brought 
the gleam of fire, burst, almost at once, into 
a little flame. What followed was simple and 
easy. Dry twigs made the slight flame a 
greater one and then, at a dozen different 
points, the wall which Ab had built was fired. 
They were safe, for the time at least. Behind 
them was the uprearing rock in which was the 
cave and before them, almost encircling them 
completely, was the ring of fire which no wild 
beast would cross. At one end, close to the 
rock, a space had been left by Ab, that he and 
Lightfoot might, through it, reach the vast 
store of fuel which lay there ready to the hand 
and so close that there was no danger in visit- 
ing it. Hardly had the flame extended itself 
along the slight wooden barrier than the whole 
wood and clearing resounded with terrifying 



MORE OF THE HONEYMOON 265 

sounds. The wolf pack had increased until 
strong enough to battle with the hyenas for the 
remainder of the feast in the wood, and their 
fight was on. 

The feeling of terror had passed away from 
this young bride and groom, with the assur- 
ance of present safety, and Ab felt the need of 
eating. "There is meat," he said, as he 
pointed toward the haunches of the bear, half- 
protruding from the rock, "and there is fire. 
The fire will cook the meat, and, besides, we 
are safe. We will eat!" 

The bridegroom of but a day Or two said 
this somewhat grandiloquently, but he was not 
disposed to be vain or grandiloquent a little 
later. He put his hand to the belt of his furry 
garb and found no sharp flint knife there! It 
had been lost in his late tree clambering. He 
put his hand into the .pouch of his cloak and 
found only the flint skin scraper, the scraper 
with which he had improved the arrow's notch, 
though it was not originally intended for such 
use. It was all that remained to him of 
weapon or utensil. But it would cut or tear, 
though with infinite effort, and the man, to re- 
assure the woman, laughed, and assailed the 
brown haunch before him. Even with his 



266 THE STORY OF AB 

strength, it was difficult for Ab to penetrate 
the tough skin of the bear with an implement 
intended for scraping, not for cutting, and it 
was only after he had finally cut, or rather 
dug, away enough to enable him to get his 
fingers under the skin and tear away an area 
of it by sheer main strength that the flesh was 
made available. That end once attained, 
there followed a hard transverse digging with 
the scraper, a grasp about tissue of strong, im- 
pressed fingers, and a shred of flesh came 
away. It was tossed at once to a young per- 
son who, long twig in hand, stood eagerly 
waiting. She caught the shred as she had 
caught the fine bit of mammoth when first she 
and Ab had met, and it was at once impaled 
and thrust into the flames. It was withdrawn, 
it is to be feared, a trifle underdone, and then 
it disappeared, as did other shreds of excellent 
bear's meat which came following. It was a 
sight for a dyspeptic to note the eating of this 
belle-matron of the region on this somewhat 
exceptional occasion. 

Strip after strip did Ab tear away and toss 
to his wife until the expression on her face be- 
came a shade more peaceful and then it 
dawned upon him that she was eating and 



MORE OF THE HONEYMOON 267 

that he was not. There was clamor in his 
stomach. He sprang away from the bear, gave 
Lightfoot the scraper and commanded her to 
get food for him as he had done for her. The 
girl complied and did as well as had done the 
man in digging away the meat. He ate as 
she had done, and, at last, partly gorged and 
content, allowed her to take her place at the 
fire and again eat to his serving. He had 
shown what, from the standard of the time, 
must be counted as most gallant and generous 
and courteous demeanor. He had thought a 
little of the woman. 

A tiny rill of cold water trickled down on 
one side of the outer door of their cave. With 
this their thirst was slaked, and they ate and 
ate. The shadows lengthened and Ab re- 
plenished again and again the fire. From the 
semicircle of forest all about came the sound 
of footsteps rustling in the leaves. But the 
two people inside the fire fence, hungry no 
longer, were content. Ab talked to his wife: 

"The fire will keep the man-eating things 
away," he said. *'I ran not long ago with 
things behind me, and I would have been 
eaten had I not come upon a ring of fire like 
the one we have made. I leaped it and the 



268 THE STORY OF AB 

eaters could not reach me. But, for the fire 
I leaped there was no wood. It came out of 
a crack in the ground. Some day we will go 
there and I will show you that thing which is 
so strange." 

The woman listened, delighted, but, at last, 
there was a nodding of the head. She lay 
back upon the grass a sleepy being. Ab looked 
at her and thought deeply. Where was safety.? 
As they were, one of them must be awake all 
the time to keep the fire replenished. Until 
he could enter the cave again he must be 
weaponless. Only the fire could protect the 
two. They had heat and food and nothing to 
fear for the moment, but they must fairly eat 
their way into a safety which would be per- 
manent! 

He kept the fire alight far into the darkness, 
and then, piling the fuel high all along the 
line of defense, he aroused the sleeping woman 
and told her she must keep the flames bright 
while he slept in his turn. She was just the 
wife for such an emergency as this, and rose 
uncomplainingly to do her part of the guarding 
work. From the forest all about came snarl- 
ing sounds or threatening growls, and eyes 
blazed in the somber depths beneath the trees. 



MORE OF THE HONEYMOON 269 

There were hungry things out there and they 
wanted to eat a man and woman, but fire 
they feared. The woman was not afraid. 

After hours had passed the man awoke and 
took the woman's place and she slept in his 
stead. Morning came and the sounds from 
the forest died away partly, but the man and 
woman knew of the fierce creatures still lurk- 
ing there. They knew what was before them. 
They must delve and eat their way into the 
cave as soon as possible. 

Ab scraped at the bear's huge body with his 
inefficient bit of flint and dug away food in 
abundance, which he heaped up in a little 
red mound inside the fire, but the bear was a 
monstrous beast and it was a long way from 
tail to head. The days of the honeymoon 
passed with a degree of travail, for there was 
no moment when one of the two must not be 
awake feeding the guarding fire or digging at 
the bear. They ate still heartily on the second 
day but it is simple, truthful history to admit 
that on the sixth day bear's meat palled some- 
what on the happy couple. To have eaten 
thirty quails in thirty days or, at a pinch, 
thirty quails in two days would have been 
nothing to either of them, but bear's meat 



270 THE STORY OF AB 

eaten as part of what might be called a tun- 
neling exploit ceased, finally, to possess an 
attractive flavor. There was a degree of 
shade cast by all these obtrusive circum- 
stances across this honeymoon, but there came 
a day and hour when the bear was largely 
eaten, and fairly dug away as to much of the 
rest of him, and then, quite suddenly, his head 
and fore-quarters toppled forward into the 
cave, leaving the passage free, and when Ab 
and Lightfoot followed, one shouting and the 
other laughing, one coming again to his fort- 
ress and his weapons and his power, and the 
other to her hearth and duties. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN. 

The sun rose brightly the next morning and 
when Ab, armed and watchful, rolled the big 
stone away and passed the smoldering fire 
and issued from the cave into the open, the 
scene he looked upon was fair in every way. 
Of what had been left of the great bear not a 
trace remained. Even the bones had been 
dragged into the forest by the ravening crea- 
tures who had fed there during the night . There 
were birds singing and there were no enemies 
in sight. Ab called to Lightfoot and the two 
went forth together, loving and brave, but no 
longer careless in that' too interesting region. 

And so began the home life of these two 
people. It was, in its way and relatively, as 
sweet and delicious as the first home life of 
any loving and appreciating man and woman 
of to-day. The two were very close, as the 
conditions under which they lived demanded. 
They were the only human beings within a 
radius of miles. The family of" the cave man 

271 



272 THE STORY OF AB 

of the time was serenely independent, each 
having its own territory, and depending upon 
itself for its existence. And the two troubled 
themselves about nothing. Who better than 
they could daily win the means of animal 
subsistence.-* 

Ab taught Lightfoot the art of cracking 
away the flakes of the flint nodules and of the 
finer chipping and rasping which made perfect 
the spear and arrowheads, and never was 
pupil swifter in the learning. He taught her, 
too, the use of his new weapon, and in all his 
life he did no wiser thing! It was not long 
before she became easily his superior with the 
bow, so far as her strength would allow, and 
her strength was far from insignificant. Her 
arrows flew with greater accuracy than his, 
though the buzzing shaft had not as yet, and 
did not have for many centuries later, the 
"gray goose" feather which made the doing 
of its mission far more certain. Lightfoot 
brought to the cave the capercailzie and willow 
grouse and other birds which were good things 
for the larder, and Ab looked on admiringly. 
Even in their joint hunting, when there was a 
half rivalry, he was happy in her. Somehow, 



THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN 273 

the arrow sang more merrily when it flew from 
Lightfoot's bow. 

Better than Ab, too, could the young wife 
do rare climbing when in a nest far out upon 
some branch were eggs good for roasting and 
which could be reached only by a light-weight. 
And she learned the woods about them well, 
and, though ever dreading when alone, found 
where were the trees from which fell the great- 
est store of nuts and where, in the mud along 
the river's side, her long and highly educated 
toes could reach the clams which were excel- 
lent to feed upon. 

But never did the hunter leave the cave 
without a fear. Ever, even in the daytime, 
was there too much rustling among the leaves 
of the near forest. Ever when day had gone 
was there the sound of padded feet on the 
sward about the cave's blocked entrance. 
Ever, at night, looking out through the narrow 
space between the heaped rocks, could the 
two inside the cave see fierce and blazing eyes 
and there would come to them the sound of 
snarls and growls as the beasts of different 
quality met one another. Yet the two cared 
little for these fearful surroundings of the 
darkness. They were safe enough. In the 
18 



274 THE STORY OF AB 

morning there were no signs of the lurking 
beasts of prey. They were somewhere near, 
though, and waiting, and so Ab and Lightfoot 
had the strain of constant watchfulness upon 
them. 

It may be that because of this ever present 
peril the two grew closer together. It could 
not well be otherwise with human beings thus 
bound and isolated and facing and living upon 
the rest of nature, part of it seeking always 
their own lives. They became a wonderfully 
loving couple, as love went in that rude time. 
Despite the too wearing outlook imposed upon 
them, because they were in so dangerous a 
locality, they were very happy. Yet, one day, 
came a difference and a hurt. 

Oak, apparently forgotten by others, was 
remembered by Ab, though never spoken of. 
Sometimes the man had tossed upon his bed 
of leaves and had muttered in his sleep, and 
the one word he had most often spoken in this 
troubled dreaming was the name of Oak. 
Early in their married life Lightfoot, to whom 
the memory of the dead man, so little had she 
known him, was a far less haunting thing than 
to her husband, had suddenly broken a silence, 
saying * 'Where is Oak .^" There was no answer, 



THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN 275 

but the look of the man of whom she had 
asked the question was such that she was 
glad to creep from his sight unharmed. Yet 
once again, months later, she forgot herself 
and mocked Ab when he had been boastful 
over some exploit of strength and courage and 
when he had seemed to say that he knew no 
fear. She, but to tease him, sprang up with 
a face convulsed and agonized, and with star- 
ing eyes and hands opening and shutting, had 
cried out **Oak! Oak!" as she had seen Ab do 
at night. Her mimic terror was changed on 
the moment into reality. With a shudder and 
then with a glare in his eyes the man leaped 
toward her, snatching his great ax from his 
belt and swinging it above her head. The 
woman shrieked and shrank to the ground. 
The man whirled the weapon aloft and then, 
his face twitching convulsively, checked its 
descent. He may, in that moment, have 
thought of what followed the slaying of the 
other who had been close to him. There was 
no death done, but, thenceforth, Lightfoot 
never uttered aloud the name of Oak. She 
became more sedate and grave of bearing. 

The episode was but a passing, though not 
a forgotten one in the lives of the two. The 



276 THE STORY OF AB 

months went by and there were tranquil hours 
in the cave as, at night, the weapons were 
'shaped, and Lightfoot boasted of the arrow- 
heads she had learned to make so well. Some- 
times Old Mok would be rowed up the river 
to them by the sturdy and venturesome Bark, 
who had grown into a particularly fine youth 
and who now cared for nothing more than his 
big brother's admiration. Between Old Mok 
and Lightfoot, to Ab's great delight, grew up 
the warmest friendship. The old man taught 
the woman more of the details of good arrow- 
making and all he knew of woodcraft in all 
ways, and the lord of the place soon found his 
wife giving opinions with an air of the utmost 
knowledge and authority. Whatever came 
to him from her and Old Mok pleased him, 
and when she told him of some of the finer 
points of arrow-making he stretched out his 
brawny arms and laughed. 

But there came, in time, a shade upon the 
face of the man« The incident of the talk of 
Oak may have brought to his mind again more 
freshly and keenly the memory of the Fire 
Country. There he had found safety and great 
comfort. Why should not he and Lightfoot 
seize upon this home and live there.-* It was 



THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN 277 

a wonderful place and warm, and there were 
forests at hand. He became so absorbed in 
his own thoughts on this great theme that the 
woman who was his could not understand his 
mood, but, one day, he told her of what he 
had been thinking and of what he had resolved 
upon. "I am going to the Fire Country," he 
said. 

Armed, this time with spear and ax and bow 
and arrow, and with food abundant in the 
pouch of his skin garb, Ab left the cave in 
which Lightfoot was now to stay most of the 
time, well barricaded, for that she was to hunt 
afar alone in such a region was not even to be 
thought of. What thoughts came to the man 
as he traversed again the forest paths where 
he had so pondered as he once ran before can 
be but guessed at. Certainly he had learned 
no more of Oak. 

Lightfoot, left alone in the cave, became at 
once a most discreet and careful personage, 
for one of her buoyant and daring tempera- 
ment. She had often taken risks since her 
marriage, but there was always the chance of 
finding within the sound of her voice her 
big mate, Ab, should danger overtake her. 
She remained close to the cave, and when 



278 THE STORY OF AB 

early dusk came she lugged the stone barriers 
into place and built a night-fire within the 
entrance. The fierce and hungry beasts of 
the wood came, as usual, lurking and sniffing 
harshly about the entrance, and when she 
ventured there and peered outside she saw the 
wicked and leering eyes. Alone and a little 
alarmed, she became more vengeful than she 
would have been with the big, careless Ab 
beside her. She would have sport with her 
bow. The advantage of the bow is that it 
requires no swing of space for its work as is 
demanded of the flung spear. An arrow may 
be sent through a mere loophole with no prob- 
able demerit as to what it will accomplish. 
So the woman brought her strongest bow — 
and far beyond the rough bow of Ab's first 
make was the bow they now possessed — and 
gathered together many of the arrows she 
could make so well and use so well, and, thus 
equipped, went again to the cave's entrance, 
and through the space between the heaped 
rocks of the doorway sent toward the eyes of 
wolf, or cave hyena, shafts to which they were 
unaccustomed, but which, somehow, pierced 
and could find mid-body quite as well as the 
cave man's spear. There was a certain com- 



THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN 279 

fort in the work, though it could not affect her 
condition in one way or another. It was only 
something of a gain to drive the eyes away. 

And Ab reached the Fire Valley again. He 
found it as comfortable and untenanted as 
when the leap through the ring of flame had 
saved his life. He clambered up the creek 
and wandered along its banks, where the grass 
was green because of the warmth about, and 
studied all the qualities of the naturally de- 
fended valley. '' I will make my home here," 
he said. " Lightfoot shall come with me." 

The man returned to his cave and his lonely 
mate again and told her of the Fire Country. 
He said that in the Fire Valley they would be 
safer and happier, and told her how he had 
found an opening underneath the cliff which 
they could soon enlarge into a cave to meet 
all wants. Not that a cave was really needed 
in a fire valley, but they might have one if 
they cared. And Lightfoot was glad of the 
departure. 

The pair gathered their belongings together 
and there was the long journey over again 
which Ab had just accomplished. But it was 
far different from either journey that he had 
made. There with him was his wife, and he 



28o THE STORY OF AB 

was all equipped and was to begin a new sort 
of life which would, he felt, be good. Light- 
foot, bearing her load gallantly, was not less 
jubilant. As a matter of plain fact, though 
Lightfoot had been happy in the cave in the 
forest, she had always recognized certain of its 
disadvantages, as had, in the end, her fearless 
husband. It is, in a general way, vexatious 
to live in a locality where, as soon as you 
leave your hearthstone, you incur, at least, a 
chance of an exciting and uncomfortable epi- 
sode and then lodgment in the maw of some 
imposing creature of the carnivora. Light- 
foot was quite ready to seek with .Ab the Fire 
Valley of which he had so often told her. 
She was a plucky young matron, but there 
were extremes. 

There were no adventures on the journey 
worth relating. The Fire Valley was reached 
at nightfall and the two struggled weariedly 
up the rugged path beside the creek which 
issued from the valley's western end. As 
they reached the level Ab threw down his 
burden, as did Lightfoot, and as the woman's 
eyes roved over the bright scene, she gave a 
great gasp of delight. ''It is our home!" she 
cried. 



THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN 281 

They ate and slept in the Hght and warmth 
of surrounding flames, and when the day came 
they began the work of enlarging what was to 
be their cave. But, though they worked ear- 
nestly, they did not care so much for the pros- 
pective shelter as they might have done. 
What a cave had given was warmth and safety. 
Here they had both, out of doors and under 
the clear sky. It was a new and glorious life. 
Sometimes, though happy, the woman worked 
a httle wearily, and, not long after the settle- 
ment of the two in their new home, a child 
was born to them, a son, robust and sturdy, 
who came afterward to be known as Little 
Mok. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

A GREAT STEP FORWARD. 

There came to Ab and Lightfoot that com- 
fort which comes with laboring for something 
desired. In all that the two did amid their 
pleasant surroundings life became a greater 
thing because its dangers were so lessened and 
its burdens lightened. But they were not 
long the sole human beings in the Fire Valley. 
There was room for many and soon Old Mok 
took up his permanent abode with them, for 
he was most contented when with Ab, who 
seemed so like a son to him. A cave of his 
own was dug for Mok, where, with his carving 
and his making of arrows and spearheads, he 
was happy in his old age. Soon followed a 
hegira which made, for the first time, a com- 
munity. The whole family of Ab, One-Ear, 
Red-Spot and Bark and Beechleaf and the 
later ones, all came, and another cave was 
made, and then old Hilltop was persuaded to 
follow the example and come with Moonface 
and Branch and Stone Arm, his big sons, and 

282 



A GREAT STEP FORWARD 283 

the group, thus established and naturally pro- 
tected, feared nothing which might happen. 
The effect of daily counsel together soon made 
itself distinctly felt, and, under circumstances 
so different, many of the old ways were de- 
parted from. Half a mile to the south the 
creek, which made a bend adown its course, 
tumbled into the river and upon the river 
were wild fowl in abundance and in its depths 
were fish. The forest abounded in game and 
there were great nut-bearing trees and the 
wild fruits in their season. Wild bees hovered 
over the flowers in the open places and there 
were hoards of wild honey to be found in the 
hollows of deadened trunks or in the high rock 
crevices. A great honey-gatherer, by the way, 
was Lightfoot, who could climb so well, and 
who, furthermore, had her own fancy for sweet 
things. It was either Bark or Moonface who 
usually accompanied her on her expeditions, 
and they brought back great store of this at- 
tractive spoil. The years passed and the 
community grew, not merely in numbers, but 
intelligence. Though always an adviser with 
Old Mok, Ab's chief male companion in ad- 
venture was the stanch Hilltop, who was a 
man worth hunting with. Having two such 



284 THE STORY OF AB 

men to lead and with a force so strong behind 
them the valley people were able to cope with 
the more dangerous animals venturesomely, 
and soon the number of these was so decreased 
that even the children might venture a little 
way beyond the steep barriers which had been 
raised where the flame circle had its gaps. 
The opening to the north was closed by a high 
stone wall and that along the creek defended 
as effectively, in a different way. They were 
having good times in the valley. 

At first, the home of all was in the caves 
dug in the soft rock of the ledge, for of those 
who came to the novel refuge there was, for a 
season, none who could sleep in the bright 
light from the never-waning flames. There 
came a time, though, when, in midsummer, 
Ab grumbled at the heat within his cave and 
he and Lightfoot built for themselves an out- 
side refuge, made of a bark-covered '* lean-to" 
of long branches propped against the rock. 
Thus was the first house made. The habita- 
tion proved so comfortable that others in the 
valley imitated it and soon there was a hive of 
similar huts along the foot of the overhanging 
precipice. When the short, sharp winter 
came, all did not seek their caves again, but 



A GREAT STEP FORWARD 285 

the huts were made warmer by the addition to 
their walls of bark and skins, and cave dwelling 
in the valley was finally abandoned. There 
was one exception. Old Mok would not leave 
his warm retreat, and, as long as he lived, his 
rock burrow was his home. 

There came also, as recruits, young men, 
friends of the young men of the valley, and 
the band waxed and waned, for nothing could 
at once change the roving and independent 
habits of the cave men. But there came 
children to the mothers, the broad Moonface 
being especially to the fore in this regard, and 
a fine group of youngsters played and straggled 
up and down the creek and fought valiantly 
together, as cave children should. The heads 
of families were friendly, though independent. 
Usually they lived each without any reference 
to anyone else, but when a great hunt was on, 
or any emergency called, the band came to- 
gether and fought, for the time, under Ab's 
tacitly admitted leadership. And the young 
men brought wives from the country round. 

The area of improvement widened. Around 
the Fire Village the zone of safety spread. 
The roar of the great cave tiger w^as less often 
heard within miles of the flaming torches of the 



286 THE STORY OF AB 

valley so inhabited. There grew into existence 
something almost like a system of traffic, for, 
from distant parts, hitherto unknown, came 
other cave men, bringing skins, or flints, or 
tusks for carving, which they were eager to 
exchange for the new weapon and for instruc- 
tion in its uses. Ab was the first chieftain, 
the first to draw about him a clan of followers. 
The cave men were taking their first lesson in 
a slight, half unconfessed obedience, that first 
essential of community life where there is yet 
no law, not even the unwritten law of custom. 

Running in and out among the children, 
sometimes pummeled by them, were a score 
or two of gray, four-footed, bone-awaiting 
creatures, who, though as yet uncounted in 
such relation, were destined to furnish a factor 
in man's advancement. They were wolves 
and yet no longer wolves. They had learned 
to cling to man, but were not yet intelligent 
enough or taught enough to aid him in his 
hunting. They were the dogs of the future, 
the four-footed things destined to become the 
closest friends of men of future ages, the de- 
scendants of the four cubs Ab and Oak had 
taken from the dens so many years before. 

It was humanizing for the children, this as- 



A GREAT STEP FORWARD 287 

sociation of such a number together, though 
they ran only a Httle less wildly than those 
who had heretofore been born in the isolated 
caves. There came more of an average of in- 
telligence among them, thus associated, though 
but little more attention was paid them than 
the cave men had afforded offspring in the past. 
There had come to Ab after Little Mok two 
strong sons, Reindeer and Sure-Aim, very much 
like him in his youth, but of them, until they 
reached the age of help and hunting, he saw 
little. Lightfoot regarded them far more 
closely, for, despite the many duties which had 
come upon her, there never disappeared the 
mother's tenderness and watchfulness. And 
so it was with Moonface, whose brood was so 
great, and who was like a noisy hen with 
chickens. So existed the hovering mother 
instinct with all thq women of the valley, 
though then the mothers fished and hunted 
and had stirring events to distract them from 
domesticity and close affection almost as much 
as had the men. 

From this oddly formed community came a 
difference in certain ways of doing certain 
things, which changed man's status, which 
made a revolution second only to that made 



288 THE STORY OF AB 

by the bow and for which even men of thought 
have not accounted as they should have done, 
with the illustration before them in our own 
times of what has followed so swiftly the use 
of steam and, later, of electricity. Men write 
of and wonder at the strange gap between 
what are called the Paleolithic and the Neo- 
lithic ages, that is, between the ages when the 
spearheads and ax and arrowheads were of 
stone chipped roughly into shape, and the age 
of stone even-edged and smoothly polished. 
There was really no gap worth speaking of. 
The Paleolithic age changed as suddenly into 
the Neolithic as the age of horse power changed 
into that of steam and electricity, allowance 
being always made for the slower transmission 
of a new intelligence in the days when men 
lived alone and when a hundred years in the 
diffusion of knowledge was as a year to-day. 

One day Ab went into Old Mok's cave 
grumbling. ''I shot an arrow into a great 
deer," he said, ''and I was close and shot it 
with all my force, but the beast ran before it 
fell and we had far to carry the meat. I tore 
the arrow from him and the blood upon the 
shaft showed that it had not gone half way in. 
I looked at the arrow and there was a jagged 



A GREAT STEP FORWARD 289 

point uprising from its side. How can a man 
drive deeply an arrow which is so rough? Are 
you getting too old to make good spears and 
arrows, Mok?" And the man fumed a little. 
Old Mok made no reply, but he thought long 
and deeply after Ab had left the cave. Cer- 
tainly Ab must have good arrows! Was there 
any way of bettering them.? And, the next 
day, the crippled old man might have been 
seen looking for something beside the creek 
where it found its exit from the valley. There 
were stones ground into smoothness tossed up 
along the shore and the old man studied them 
most carefully. Many times he had bent over 
a stream, watching, thinking, but this time he 
acted. He noted a small sandstone block 
against which were rasping stones of harder 
texture, and he picked this from the tumbling 
current and carried it to his cave. Then, pour- 
ing a little water upon a depression in the 
stone's face, he selected his best big arrow- 
head and began rubbing it upon the wet sand- 
stone. It was a weary work, for flint and 
sandstone are different things and flint is much 
the harder, but there came a slow result. 
Smoother and smoother became the chipped ar- 
rowhead, and two days later — for all the waking 
19 



290 THE STORY OF AB 

hours of two days were required in the weary 
grinding — Old Mok gave to Ab an arrow as 
smooth of surface and keen of edge as ever 
flew from bow while stone was used. And 
not many years passed — as years are counted 
in old history — before the smoothed stone 
weaponhead became the common property of 
cave men. The time of chipped stone had 
ended and that of smoothed stone had begun. 
There was no space between them to be 
counted now. One swiftly became the other. 
It was a matter of necessity, this exhibition of 
enterprise and sense by the early man in the 
prompt general utilization of a new discovery. 
And not alone in the improvements in means 
which came when men of the hunting type 
were so gathered in a community were the 
bow and the smoothed implements, though 
these were the greatest of the discoveries of 
the epoch. The fishermen who went to the 
river were not content with the raft-like de- 
vices of the aquatic Shell People and learned, 
in time, that hollowed logs would float and 
that, with the aid of fire and flint axes, a great 
log could be hollowed. And never a Phoeni- 
cian ship-builder, never a Fulton of the 
steamer, never a modern designer of great 



A GREAT STEP FORWARD 29 1 

* 

yachts, stood higher in the estimation of his 
fellows than stood the expert in the making 
of the rude boats, as uncouth in appearance 
as the river-horse which sometimes upset 
them, but from which men could, at least, let 
down their lines or dart their spears to secure 
the fish in the teeming waters. And the fisher- 
men had better spears and hooks now, for 
comparison w^as necessarily always made 
among devices, and bone barbs and hooks 
were whittled out from which the fish no lon- 
ger often floundered. There came, in time, 
the making of rude nets, plaited simply from 
the tough marsh grasses, but they served the 
purpose and lessened somewhat the gravity 
of the great food question. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

FACING THE RAIDER. 

One day, at noon, a man burst, panting, 
through the wide open entrance to the Fire 
Valley. His coat of skin was rent and hung 
awry and, as all could see when he staggered 
down the pathway, the flesh was torn from 
one cheek and arm, and down his leg on one 
side was the stain of dried blood. He was 
exhausted from his hurt and his run and his 
talk was, at first, almost unmeaning. He was 
met by some of the older and wiser among 
those who saw him coming and to their ques- 
tions answered only by demanding Ab, who 
came at once. The hard-breathing and 
wounded man could only utter the words 
''Big tiger," when he pitched forward and 
became unconscious. But his words had been 
enough. Well understood was it by all who 
listened what a raid of the cave tiger meant, 
and there was a running to the gateway and 
soon was raised the wall of ready stone, up- 
built so high that even the leaping monster 

292 



FACING THE RAIDER 293 

could not hope to reach its summit. Later 
the story of the wounded, but now conscious 
and refreshed runner, was told with more of 
detail and coherence. 

The messenger brought out what he had to 
tell gaspingly. He had lost much blood and 
was faint, but he told how there had taken 
place something awful in the village of the 
Shell Men. It was but little after dusk the 
night before when the Shell Men were gathered 
together in merrymaking after good fishing 
and lucky gathering of what there was to eat 
along the shores of the shell fish and the egg- 
laying turtles and the capture of a huge river- 
horse. It had been, up to midnight, one of 
the greatest and most joyous meetings the 
Shell People had joined in for many years. 
They were close-gathered and prosperous and 
content, and though there was daily turmoil 
and risk of death upon the water and some- 
times as great risk upon the land, yet the vil- 
lage fringing the waters had grown, and the 
midden — the "kitchen-midden" of future ages 
— had raised itself steadily and now stretched 
far up and down the creek which was a 
river branch and far backward from the creek 
toward the forest which ended with the up- 



294 THE STORY OF AB 

lands. They had learned to dread the forest 
little, the water people, but from the forest 
now came what made for each in all the vil- 
lage a dread and horror. The cave tiger had 
been among them! 

The Shell People had gathered together 
upon the sward fronting their line of shallow 
caves and one of them, the story-teller and 
singer, was chanting aloud of the river-horse 
and the great spoil which was theirs, when 
there was a hungry roar and the yell or shriek 
of all, men or women not too stricken by fear 
to be unable to utter sound, and then the leap 
into their midst of the cave tiger! Perhaps the 
story-teller's chant had called the monster's 
attention to him, perhaps his attitude attracted 
it; whatever may have been the influence, the 
tiger seized the singer and leaped lightly into 
the open beyond the caves and, as lightly, 
with long bounds, into the blackness of the 
forest beyond. 

There was a moment of awe and horror and 
then the spirit of the brave Shell Men asserted 
itself. There was grasping of weapons and an 
outpouring in pursuit of the devourer. Easy 
to follow was the trail, for a monster beast 
carrying a man cannot drop lightly in his leaps. 



FACING THE RAIDER 295 

There was a brief mile or two traversed, though 
hours were consumed in the search, and then, 
as morn was breaking, the seekers came upon 
what was left of the singer. It was not much 
and it lay across the forest pathway, for the 
cave tiger did not deign to hide his prey. 
There came a half moaning growl from 
the forest. That growl meant lurking death. 
Then the seekers fled. There was consultation 
and a resolve to ask for help. So the runner, 
the man stricken down by a casual stroke in 
the tiger's rush, but bravest among his tribe, 
had come to the Fire Valley. 

To the panting stranger Ab had not much to 
say. He saw to it that the man was refreshed 
and cared for and that the deep scars along 
his side were dressed after the cave man's 
fashion. But through the night which fol- 
lowed the great cave leader pondered deeply. 
Why should men thus live and dread the cave 
tiger .^ Surely men were wiser than any beast! 
This one monster must, anyhow, be slain! 

But little it mattered to all surrounding na- 
ture that the strong man in the Fire Valley 
had resolved upon the death of the cave tiger. 
The tiger was yet alive! There was a differ- 
ence in the pulse of all the woodland. There 



296 THE STORY OF AB 

was a hush throughout the forest. The word, 
somehow, went to every nerve of all the world 
of beasts, "Sabre-Tooth is here!" Even the 
huge cave bear shuffled aside as there came to 
him the scent of the invader. The aurochs 
and the urus, the towering elk, the reindeer 
and the lesser horned and antlered things fled 
wildly as the tainted air brought to them the 
tale of impending murder. Only the huge 
rhinoceros and mammoth stood their ground, 
and even these were terror-stricken with re- 
gard for their guarded young whenever the 
tiger neared them. The rhinoceros stood then, 
fierce-fronted and dangerous, its offspring hov- 
ering by its flanks, and the mammoths gath- 
ered in a ring encircling their calves and pre- 
senting an outward range of tusks to meet the 
hovering devourer. The dread was all about. 
The forest became seemingly nearly lifeless. 
There was less barking and yelping, less reck- 
less playfulness of wild creatures, less rustling 
of the leaves and pattering along the forest 
paths. There was fear and quiet, for Sabre- 
Tooth had come! 

The runner, refreshed and strengthened by 
food and sleep, appeared before Ab in the 
morning and told his story more in detail and 



FACING THE RAIDER 297 

got in return the short answer: ''We will go 
with you and help you and your people. 
Tigers must be killed!" 

Rarely before had man gone out voluntarily 
to hunt the great cave tiger. He had, some- 
times in awful strait, defended himself against 
the monster as best he could, but to seek 
the encounter where the odds were so great 
against him was an ugly task. Now the man- 
slayer was to be the pursued instead of the 
pursuer. It required courage. The vengeful 
wounded man looked upon Ab with a grim, 
admiring regard. "You fear not.^^" he said. 

There was bustling in the valley and soon a 
stalwart dozen men were armed with bow and 
spear and the journey was taken up toward 
the Shell Men's home. The village was 
reached at mid-day and as the little troop 
emerged from the forest the death wail fell 
upon their ears. ' ' The tiger has come again !" 
exclaimed the runner. 

It was true. The tiger had come again! 
Once more with his stunning roar he had swept 
through the village and had taken another 
victim, a woman, the wife of one of the head 
men. Too benumbed by fear, this time, to 
act at once, the Shell Men had not pursued 



298 THE STORY OF AB 

the great brute into the darkness. They had 
but ventured out in the morning and followed 
the trail and found that the tiger had carried 
the woman in very nearly the same direction 
as he had borne the man and that what re- 
mained from his gorging of the night lay 
where his earlier feast had been. It was the 
first tragedy almost repeated. 

The little group of Fire Valley folk entered 
the village and were received w4th shouts from 
the men, while from the throats of the women 
still rose the death wail. There were more 
people about the huts than Ab had ever seen 
there and he recognized at once among the 
group many of the cave men from the East, 
strong people of his own kind. As the wounded 
runner had gone to the Fire Valley, so another 
had been sent to the East, to call upon another 
group for aid, and the Eastern cave people, 
under the leadership of a huge, swarthy man 
called Boarface, had come to learn what the 
strait was and to decide upon what degree of 
help they could afTord to give. Between these 
Eastern and the Western cave men there was 
a certain coldness. There was no open enmity, 
though at some time in the past there had been 
family battles and memories of feuds were 



FACING THE RAIDER 299 

Still existent. But Ab and Boarface met 
genially and there was not a trace of difference 
now. Boarface joined readily in the council 
which was held and decided that he would aid 
in the desperate hunt, and certainly his aid 
was not to be despised when his followers were 
looked upon. They were a stalwart lot. 

The way was taken by the gathered fighting 
men toward where, across the forest path, lay 
part of a woman. As the place was neared 
the band gathered close together and there 
were outpointing spears, just as the mammoths' 
tusks outpointed when the beasts guarded 
their young from the thing now hunted. But 
there came no attack and no sound from the 
forest. The tiger must be sleeping. Beneath 
a huge tree bordering the pathway lay what 
remained of the woman's body. Fifty feet 
above, and almost directly over this dreadful 
remnant of humanity, shot out a branch as 
thick as a man's body. There was consulta- 
tion among the hunters and in this Ab took 
the lead, while Boarface and the Shell Men 
who had come to help assented readily. No 
need existed for the risk of an open fight with 
this great beast. Craft must be used and Ab 
gave forth his swift commands. 



300 THE STORY OF AB 

The Fire Valley leader had seen to it that 
his company had brought what he needed in 
his effort to kill the tiger. There were two 
great tanned, tough urus hides. There were 
lengths of rhinoceros hide, cut thickly, which 
would endure a strain of more than the weight 
of ten brawny men. There was one spear, 
with a shaft of ashwood at least fifteen feet 
in length and as thick as a man's wrist. Its 
head was a blade of hardest flint, but the 
spear was too heavy for a man's hurling. It 
had been made for another use. 

There was little hesitation in what was 
done, for Ab knew well the quality of the 
work he had in hand. He unfolded his plan 
briefly and then he himself climbed to the tree- 
top and out upon the limb, carrying with him 
the knotted strip of rhinoceros hide. In 
the pouch of his skin garment were pebbles. 
He reached a place on the big limb overhang- 
ing the path and dropped a pebble. It struck 
the earth a yard or two away from what 
remained of the woman's body and he shouted 
to those below to drag the mangled body to 
the spot where the pebble had hit the earth. 
They were about to do so when from the 
forest on one side of the path came a roar, so 



FACING THE RAIDER 301 

appalling in every way that there was no 
thought of anything among most of the work- 
ers save of sudden flight. The tiger was in 
the wood and very near and a scent had 
reached him. There was a flight which left 
upon the ground beneath the tree branches 
only old Hilltop and the rough Boarface and 
some dozen sturdy followers, these about 
equally divided between the East and the 
West men of the hills. There was swift and 
sharp work then. 

The tiger might come at any moment, and 
that meant death to one at least. But those 
who remained were brave men and they had 
come far to encompass this tiger's ending. 
They dragged what remained of the tiger's 
prey to where the pebble had hit the earth. 
Ab, clinging and raging aloft, afar out upon 
the limb, shouted to Hilltop to bring him the 
spear and the urus skins, and soon the sturdy 
old man was beside him. Then, about two 
deep notches in the huge shaft, thongs were 
soon tied strongly, and just below its middle 
were attached the bag-shaped urus skins. 
Near its end the rhinoceros thong was knotted 
and then it was left hanging from the limb 
supported by this strong rope, while, three- 



302 THE STORY OF AB 

fourths of the way down its length, dangled 
on each side the two empty bags of hide. 
Short orders were given, and, directed by 
Boarface, one man after another climbed the 
tree, each with a weight of stones carried in 
his pouch, and each delivering his load to old 
Hilltop, who, lying well out upon the limb, 
passed the stones to Ab, who placed them in 
the skin pouches on either side the suspended 
and threatening spear. The big skin pouches 
on either side were filling rapidly, when there 
came from the forest another roar, nearer and 
more appalling than before, and some of the 
workers below fled panic-stricken. Ab shouted 
and frothed and foamed as the men ran. Old 
Hilltop slid down the tree, ax in hand, followed 
by the dark Boarface, and one or two of the 
men below were captured and made to work 
again. Soon all the work which Ab had in 
mind was done. Above the path, just over 
what remained of the woman, hung the great 
spear, weighted with half a thousand pounds 
of stone and sure to reach its mark should the 
tiger seek its prey again. The branch was 
broad and the line of rhinoceros skin taut, and 
Ab's flint knife was keen of edge. Only cour- 
age and calmness were needed in the dread 



FACING THE RAIDER 303 

presence of the monster of the time. Neither 
the swarthy Boarface nor the gaunt Hilltop 
wanted to leave him, but Ab forced them 
away. 

Not long to wait had the cave man, but the 
men who had been with him were already 
distant. The shadows were growing long now, 
but the light was still from the sunshine of the 
early afternoon. The man lying along the 
limb, knife in hand, could hear no sound save 
the soft swish of leaves against each other as 
the breeze of later day pushed its way through 
the forest, or the alarmed cries of knowing 
birds who saw on the ground beneath them a 
huge thing slip along with scarce a sound from 
the impact of his fearfully clawed but padded 
feet as he sought the meal he had prepared 
for himself. The great beast was approach- 
ing. The great man aloft was waiting. 

Into the open along the path came the tiger, 
and Ab, gripping the limb more firmly, looked 
down upon the thing so closely and in daylight 
for the first time in his life. Ab was certainly 
brave, and he was calm and wise and thinking 
beyond his time, but when he saw plainly this 
beast which had slipped so easily and silently 
from the forest, safe though he was upon his 



304 THE STORY OF AB 

perch, he was more than startled. The thing 
was so huge and with an aspect so terrible to 
look upon! 

The great cat's head moved slowly from 
side to side; the baleful eyes blazed up and 
down the pathway and the tawny muzzle was 
lifted to catch what burden there might be on 
the air. The beast seemed satisfied, emerging 
fairly into the sunlight. Immense of size but 
with the graceful lankness of the tigers of to- 
day, Sabre-Tooth somewhat resembled them, 
though, beside him, the largest inmate of the 
Indian jungle would appear but puny. The 
creature Ab looked upon that day so long- 
ago was beautiful, in his way. He was beau- 
tiful as is the peacock or the banded rattle- 
snake. There were color contrasts and line 
blendings. The stripes upon him were won- 
derfully rich, and as he came creeping toward 
the body, he was as splendid as he was dreadful. 

With every nerve strained, but with his first 
impulse of something like terror gone, Ab 
watched the devourer beneath him while his 
sharp flint knife, hard gripped, bore lightly 
against the taut rhinoceros-hide rope. The 
tiger began his ghastly meal but was not quite 
beneath the suspended spear. Then came 



FACING THE RAIDER 305 

some distant sound in the forest and he raised 
his head and shifted his position. He was 
fairly under the spear now. The knife pressed 
firmly against the rawhide was drawn back 
and forth noiselessly but with effectiveness. 
Suddenly the last tissue parted and the enor- 
mously-weighted spear fell like a lightning- 
stroke. The broad flint head struck the tiger 
fairly between the shoulders, and, impelled by 
such a weight, passed through his huge body 
as if it had met no obstacle. Upon the strong 
shaft of ash the monster was impaled. There 
echoed and reechoed through the forest a roar 
so fearful that even the hunters whom Ab had 
sent far away from the scene of the tragedy 
clambered to the trees for refuge. The strug- 
gles of the pierced brute were tremendous be- 
yond description, but no strength could avail 
it now; it had received its death wound and 
soon the great tiger lay still, as harmless as 
the squirrel, frightened and hidden in his nest. 
In wild triumph Ab slid to the ground and 
then the long cry to summon his party went 
echoing through the wood. When the others 
found him he had withdrawn the spear and 
was already engaged, flint knife in hand, in 
20 



306 THE STORY OF AB 

stripping from the huge body the glorious robe 
it wore. 

There was excitement and rejoicing. The 
terror had been slain! The Shell People were 
frantic in their exultation. Meanwhile Ab 
had called upon his own people to assist him 
and the wonderful skin of the tiger was soon 
stretched out upon the ground, a glorious 
possession for a cave man. 

**I will have half of it," declared Boarface, 
and he and Ab faced each other menacingly. 
''It shall not be cut," was the fierce retort. 
*'It is mine. I killed the tiger!" 

Strong hands gripped stone axes and there 
was chance of deadly fray then and there, but 
the Shell People interfered and the Shell People 
excelled in number, and were a potent influ- 
ence for peace. Ab carried away the splendid 
trophy, but as Boarface and his men departed, 
there were black faces and threatening words. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

LITTLE MOK. 

Among all the children of Ab — and remark- 
able it was for the age — the best loved was 
Little Mok, the eldest son. When the child, 
strong and joyous, was scarcely two years old, 
he fell from a ledge off the cliff where he 
had climbed to play, and both his legs were 
broken. Strange to say he survived the acci- 
dent in that time when the law of the survival 
of the fittest was almost invariable in its 
sternest and most purely physical demonstra- 
tion. The mother love of Lightfoot warded 
of^ the last pitiless blow of nature, although 
the child, a hopeless cripple, never after walked. 
The name Little Mok was naturally given him, 
and before long the child had won the heart, 
as well as the name, of the limping old maker 
of axes, spearheads and arrows. 

The closer ties of family life, as we know 
them now, existed but in their outlines to the 
cave man. The man and woman were faith- 
ful to each other with the fidelity of the higher 

307 



3o8 THE STORY OF AB 

animals and their children were cared for with 
rough tenderness in their infancy. The time 
of absolute dependence was made very short, 
though, and children very early were required 
to find some of their own food, and taught by 
necessity to protect themselves. But Little 
Mok, unable to take up for himself the burden 
of an independent existence, was not slain nor 
left to die of neglect as might have been an- 
other child thus crippled in the time in which 
he lived. He, once spared, grew into the 
wild hearts of those closest to him and became 
the guarded and cherished one of the rude 
home of Ab and Lightfoot, and to him was 
thus given the continuous love and care which 
the strong-limbed boys and girls of the family 
lost and never missed. 

It was a strange thing for the time. The 
child had qualities other than the negative 
ones of helplessness and weakness with which 
to bind to him the hearts of those around him, 
but the primary fact of his entire dependence 
upon them was what made him the center of 
the little circle of untaught, untamed cave 
people who lived in the Fire Valley. He may 
have been the first child ever so cherished from 
such impulse. 



LITTLE MOK 309 

From his mother the child inherited a joyous 
disposition which nothing could subdue. Often 
on the return home from some little expedition 
on which it had been practicable to take him, 
sitting on Lightfoot's shoulder, or on the still 
stronger arm of old One-Ear, his silent, some- 
what brooding grandfather, the little brown 
boy made the woods ring with shrill bird calls, 
or the mimicry of animals, and ever his laugh- 
ter filled the spaces in between these sounds. 
Other children fiocked around the merry 
youngster, seeking to emulate his play of voice 
and the oldsters smiled as they saw and heard 
the joyous confusion about the tiny reveler. 
The excursions to the river were Little Mok's 
chief delight from his early childhood. He 
entered into the preparations for them with a 
zest and keen enjoyment born of the presence 
of an adventurous spirit in a maimed body, and 
when the fishing party left the Fire Camp it 
was incomplete if Little Mok was not carried 
lightly at the van, the life and joy of the occa- 
sion. 

No one ever forgot the day when Little Mok, 
then about six years old, caught his first fish. 
His joy and pride infected all as he exhibited 
his prize and boasted of what he would catch 



3IO THE STORY OF AB 

in the river next, and when, on the return, Old 
Mok saluted him as the "Great Fisherman," 
the elf's elation became too great for any ex- 
pression. His little chest heaved, his eyes 
flashed, and then he wriggled from Light- 
foot's arms into the lap of Old Mok, snuggled 
down into the old man's furs and hid his face 
there; and the two understood each other. 

It was soon after this great event of the first 
fish-catching that Red-Spot, Ab's mother, 
died. She had never quite adapted herself to 
the new life in the Fire Valley, and after a 
time she began to grow old very fast. At last 
a fever attacked her and the end of her patient, 
busy life came. After her death One-Ear was 
much in Old Mok's cave, the two had so long 
been friends. There with them the crippled 
boy was often to be found. He was not always 
gay and joyous. Sometimes he lay for days 
on his bed of leaves at home, in weakness and 
pain, silent and unlike himself. Then when 
Lightfoot's care had given him back a little 
strength, he would beg to be taken to- Old Mok's 
cave. There he could sleep, he said, away 
from the noise and the lights of the out- 
side world, and finally he claimed and was 
allowed a nest of his own in the warmest and 



LITTLE MOK 311 

darkest nook of Old Mok's den, where he slept 
every night, and sometimes a good part of the 
day, when one of his times of pain and weak- 
ness was upon him. Here during many a long 
hour of work, experiment and argument, the 
wide eyes and quick ears of Little Mok saw and 
heard, while Ab, Mok and One-Ear bent over 
their work at arrowhead or spear point, and 
talked of what might be done to improve the 
weapons upon which so much depended. Here, 
when no one else remained in the weary dark- 
ness of night and the half light of stormy days 
Old Mok beguiled the time with stories, and 
sometimes in a hoarse voice even attempted to 
chant to his little hearer snatches of the wild 
singing tales of the Shell People, for the Shell 
People had a sort of story song. 

Once, when Lightfoot sat by Old Mok's 
fire, she told them of the time when she and 
Ab found themselves outside their cave, 
unarmed, with a bear to be eaten through 
before they could get into their door, and 
Little Mok surprised his mother and Old Mok 
by an outburst of laughter at the tale. He 
had a glimmering of humor, and saw the 
droll side of the adventure, a view which had 
not occurred to Lightfoot, nor to Ab. The 



312 THE STORY OF AB 

little lad, of the world, yet not in it, saw 
vaguely the surprises, lights and shades and 
contrasts of existence, and sometimes they 
made him laugh. The laugh of the cave 
man was not a common event, and when it 
came was likely to be sober and sardonic, at 
least it was so when not simply an evidence 
of rude health and high animal spirits. Hu- 
mor is one of the latest, as it is one of the 
most precious, grains shaken out of Time's 
hour-glass, but Little Mok somehow caught 
a tiny bit of the rainbow gift, long before its 
time in the world, and soon, with him, it 
was to disappear for centuries to come. 

One day when Little Mok was brought back 
from an expedition to the river, he told Old 
Mok how he had sat long on the bank, too 
tired to fish, and had just rested and feasted 
his eyes on the wood, the stream, the small 
darting creatures in it, the birds, and the 
animals which came to drink. Describing a 
herd of reindeer which had passed near him. 
Little Mok took up a piece of Old Mok's red 
chalkstone and on the wall of the cave drew 
a picture of the animal. The veteran stared 
in surprise. The picture was wonderfully 
life-like in grasp and detail. The child owned 



LITTLE MOK 313 

that great gift, the memory of sight, and his 
hand was cunning. Encouraged by his suc- 
cess, the boy drew on, delighting Old Mok 
with his singular fidelity and skill. Then 
came hours and days of sketching and etching 
in the old man's cave. The master was 
delighted. He brought out from their hiding 
places his choicest pieces of mammoth tusk 
or teeth of the river-horse for Little Mok's 
etchings and carvings. And, as time passed, 
the young artist excelled the old one, and 
became the pride and boast of his friend and 
teacher. Sometimes the little lad would 
work far into the night, for he could not 
pause when he had begun a thing until it was 
complete — but then he would sleep in his 
warm nest until noon the next day, crawling 
out to cook a bit of meat for himself at the 
nearest fire, or sharing Old Mok's meal, as 
was more convenient. 

While everything else in the Fire Valley 
was growing, developing and flourishing, Little 
Mok's frail body had ever grown but slowly, 
and about the beginning of his twelfth year 
there appeared a change in him. He became 
permanently weak and grew more and more 
helpless day by day. His cherished excursions 



314 THE STORY OF AB 

to the river, even his little journeys on old 
One-Ear's strong arm to the cliff top, from 
whence he could see the whole world at once, 
had all to be abandoned. 

When the winter snows began to whirl in 
the air Little Mok was lying quietly on his 
bed, his great eyes looking wistfully up at 
Lightfoot, who in vain taxed her limited skill 
and resources to tempt him to eat and be- 
come more sturdy. She hovered over him 
like a distressed mother bird over its young- 
ling fallen from the nest, but, with all her 
efforts, she could not bring back even his 
usual slight measure of health and strength to 
the poor Little Mok. Ab came sometimes 
and looked sadly at the two and then walked 
moodily away, a great weight on his breast. 
Old Mok was always at work, and yet always 
ready to give Little Mok water or turn his 
weary little frame on its rude bed, or spread 
the furs over the wasted body, and always 
Lightfoot waited and hoped and feared. 

And at last Little Mok died, and was buried 
under the stones, and the snow fell over the 
lonely cairn under the fir trees outside the 
Fire Valley where his grave was made. 

Lightfoot was silent and sad, and could not 



LITTLE MOK 315 

smile or laugh any more. She longed for 
Little Mok, and did not eat or sleep. One 
night Ab, trying to comfort her, said, ''You 
will see him again." 

''What do you mean.?" cried Lightfoot. 
And Ab only answered, "You will see him; he 
will come at night. Go to sleep, and you 
will see him." 

But Lightfoot could not sleep yet and for 
many a night her eyes closed only when ex- 
treme fatigue compelled sleep toward the 
morning. 

And at last, after many days and nights, 
Lightfoot, when asleep, saw Little Mok. 
Just as in life, she saw him, with all his famil- 
iar looks and motions. But he did not stay 
long. And again and again she saw him, and 
it comforted her somewhat because he smiled. 
There had come to her such a heartache 
about him, lying out there under the snow 
and stones, with no one to care for him, that 
the smile warmed her heavy heart and she 
told Ab that she had seen Little Mok, only 
whispering it to him — for it was not well, she 
knew, to talk about such things — and she 
whispered to Ab, too, her anguish that Little 
Mok only came at night, and never when it 



3l6 THE STORY OF AB 

was day, but she did not complain. She only 
said: "I want to see him in the daytime." 

And Ab could think of nothing to say. 
But that made him think more and more. He 
felt drawn closer to Lightfoot, his wife, no 
longer a young girl, but the mother of Little 
Mok, who was dead, and of all his children. 

In his mind arose, vaguely obscure, yet 
persistent, the idea that brute strength and 
vigor, keen senses and reckless bravery were 
not, after all, the sole qualities that make and 
influence men. Old Mok, crippled and dis- 
abled for the hunt and defense, was never- 
theless a power not to be despised, and Little 
Mok, the helpless child, had been still strong 
enough to win and keep the love of all the 
stalwart and rough cave people. Ab was 
sorry for Lightfoot. When in the spring the 
forlorn mother held in her arms a baby girl a 
little brightness came into her eyes again, and 
Ab, seeing this, was glad, but neither Ab nor 
Lightfoot ever forgot their eldest and dearest, 
Little Mok. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS. 

While Ab had been occupied by home affairs 
trouble for him and his people had been brew- 
ing. By no means unknown to each other 
before the ti^er hunt were Ab and Boar- 
face. They had hunted together and once 
Boarface, with half a dozen companions, had 
visited the Fire Valley and had noted its many 
attractions and advantages. Now Boarface 
had gone away angry and muttering, and he 
was not a man to be thought of lightly. His 
rage over the memory of Ab's trophy did not 
decrease with the return to his own region. 
Why should this cave man of the West have 
sole possession of that valley, which was warm 
and green throughout the winter and where 
the wild beasts could not enter.-* Why had 
he, this Ab, been allowed to go away with all 
the tiger's skin.'' Brooding enlarged into re- 
solve and Boarface gathered together his rela- 
tions and adherents. "Let us go and take the 
Fire Valley of Ab," he said to them, and, 

317 



3l8 THE STORY OF AB 

gradually, though objections were made to the 
undertaking of an enterprise so fraught with 
danger, the listeners were persuaded. 

''There are other fires far down the river," 
said one old man. ''Let us go there, if it is fire 
we most need, and so we will not disturb nor 
anger Ab, who has lived in his valley for many 
years. Why battle with Ab and all his 
people.?" 

But Boarface laughed aloud: "There are 
many other earth fires," he said. "I know them 
well, but there is no other fire which chances to 
make a flaming fence about a valley close to 
the great rocks, and which has water within the 
space it surrounds and which makes a wall 
against all the wild beasts. We will fight and 
win the valley of Ab. " 

And so they were led into the venture. They 
sought, too, the aid of the Shell People in this 
raid, but were not successful. The Shell Peo- 
ple were not unfriendly to those of the Fire 
Valley, and had not Ab been really the one to 
kill the tiger.-^ Besides, it was not wise for the 
waterside dwellers to engage in any controversy 
between the forest factions, for the hill people 
had memories and heavy axes. A few of the 
younger and more adventurous joined the force 



THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS 3^9 

of Boarface, but the alliance had no tribal 
sanction. Still, the force of the swarthy leader 
of the Eastern cave men was by no means in- 
significant. It contained good fighting men, 
and, when runners had gone far and wide in 
the Eastern country, there were gathered 
nearly ten score of hunters who could throw 
the spear or wield the ax and who were not 
fearful of their lives. The band led by Boar- 
face started for the Fire Country, intending to 
surprise the people in the valley. They moved 
swiftly, but not so swiftly as a fleet young 
man from the Shell People who preceded 
them. He was sent by the elders a day be- 
fore the time fixed for the assault, and so Ab 
learned all about the intended raid. Then 
went forth runners from the valley; then the 
matron Lightfoot's eyes became fiery, since 
Ab was threatened; then old Hilltop looked 
carefully over his spears, and poised thought- 
fully his great stone ax; then Moonface smote 
her children and gathered together certain 
weapons, and then Old Mok went into his cave 
and stayed there, working at none knew what. 
They came from all about, the Western cave 
men, for never in the valley had food or shelter 
been refused to any and the Eastern cave men 



320 THE STORY OF AB 

were not loved. Many a quarrel over game 
had taken place between the raging hunters of 
the different tribes, and many a bloody single- 
handed encounter had come in the depths of 
the forest. The band was not a large one, the 
Eastern men being far more numerous, but the 
outlook was not as fine as it might be for the 
advancing Boarface. The force assembled 
inside the valley was, in point of numbers, but 
little more than half his own, but it was in- 
trenched and well-armed, and there were those 
among the defenders whom it was not well to 
meet in fight. But Boarface was confident 
and was not dismayed when his force crept into 
the open only to find the ordinary valley 
entrance barred and all preparations made for 
giving him a welcome of the warmer sort. 
There was what could not be thoroughly bar- 
ricaded in so brief a time, the entrance where 
the brook issued at the west. This pass must 
be forced, for the straight, uprising wall be- 
tween the flames and across the opening to 
the north was something relatively unassail- 
able. It was too narrow and too high and 
sheer and there were too many holes in the 
wall through which could be sent those piercing 
arrows which the Western cave men knew how 



THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS 321 

to use SO well. The battle must be up along 
the bed of the little creek. The water was 
low at this season, so low that a man might 
wade easily anywhere, and there had been 
erected only a slight barrier, enough to keep 
wild beasts away, for Ab had never thought of 
invasion by human beings. The creek tum- 
bled downward, through passages, between 
straight-sided, ruggedly built stone heaps, with 
spaces between wide enough to admit a man, 
but not any great beast of prey. There was 
no place where, by a man, the wall could not 
easily be mounted and, above, there was no 
really good place of vantage for the defenders. 
So the invading force, concealment of action 
being no longer necessary, ranged themselves 
along the banks of the creek to the west of the 
valley and prepared for a rush. They had 
certain chances in their favor. They were 
strong men, who knew how to use their 
weapons well, and they were in numbers almost 
as two to one. Meanwhile, inside the valley, 
where the approach and plans of the enemy 
had been seen and understood, there had gone 
on swiftly, under Ab's stern direction, such 
preparation for the fray as seemed most ade- 
quate with the means at hand. 

21 



322 THE STORY OF AB 

The great advantage possessed was that the 
defenders, on firm footing themselves, could 
meet men climbing, and so, a little further up 
the creek than the beast-opposing wall, had 
been thrown up what was little more than a 
rude platform of rock, wide and with a broad 
expanse of top, on which all the valley's force 
might cluster in an emergency. Upon this 
the people were to gather, defending the first 
pass, if they could, by flights of spears and 
arrows and here, at the end, to win or lose. 
This was the general preparation for the on- 
slaught, but there had been precautions taken 
more personal and more involving the course 
of the most important of the people of the 
valley. 

At the left of the gorge, where must come 
the invaders, the rock rose sheerly and at one 
place extended outward a shelf, high up, but 
reached easily from the Fire Valley side. 
There were consultations between Ab and the 
angry and anxious and almost tearful Light- 
foot. That charming lady, now easily the 
best archer of the tribe, had developed at once 
into a fighting creature and now demanded 
that her place be assigned to her. With her 
own bow, and with arrows in quantity, it was 



THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS 323 

decided that she should occupy the ledge and 
do all she could. Upon the ledge was com- 
parative safety in the fray, and Ab directed 
that she should go there. Old Hilltop said 
but little. It was understood, almost as a 
matter of course, that he would be upon the 
barrier and there face, with Ab, the greatest 
issue. The old man was by no means unsat- 
isfactory to look upon as he moved silently 
about and got ready the weapons he might 
have to use. Gaunt, strong-muscled and reso- 
lute, he was worthy of admiration. Ever 
following him with her eyes, when not en- 
gaged in the chastisement of one of her swart 
brood, was Moonface, for Moonface had long 
since learned to regard her grizzled lord with 
love as well as much respect. 

There were other good lighting men and 
other women beside these mentioned who 
would do their best, but these few were the 
dominant figures. Meanwhile, Boarface and 
his strong band had decided upon their plan 
of attack and would soon rush up the bed of 
the shallow stream with all the bravery and 
ferocity of those who were accustomed to face 
death lightly and to seize that which they 
wanted. 



324 THE STORY OF AB 

The invaders came clambering up the creek's 
course, openly and with menacing and defiant 
shouts, for any concealment was now out of 
the question. They had but few bows and 
could, under the conditions, send no arrow 
flight which would be of avail, but they had 
thews and sinews and spears and axes. As 
they came with such rush as men might make 
up a tumbling waterway with slipping pebbles 
beneath the feet and forced themselves one 
by one between the heaped stone piles and 
fairly in front of the barrier there was a dis- 
charge of arrows and more than one man, 
impaled by a stone-headed shaft, fell, to dab- 
ble feebly in the water, and did not rise again. 
But there came a time in the fight when the 
bow must be abandoned. 

The assault was good and the demeanor of 
the men behind the barrier was good as well. 
Not more gallant was one group than the 
other for there were splendid fighters in both 
ranks. The boasted short sword of the Ro- 
mans, in times effeminate, as compared with 
these, afforded not in its wielding a greater 
test of personal courage than the handling of 
the flint-headed spear or the stone knife or 
chipped ax. There, all along the barrier, 



THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS 3^5 

was the real grappling of man and man, with 
further existence as the issue. 

The invaders, losing many of their number, 
for arrows flew steadily and a mass so large 
could not easily be missed even by the most 
bungling of those strong archers, swept upward 
to the barrier and then was a muscular, deadly 
tumult worth the seeing. To the south and 
nearest the side where Lightfoot was perched 
with her bow and great bunch of arrows Ab 
stood in front, while to his right and near the 
other end of the rude stone rampart was sta- 
tioned old Hilltop, and he hurled his spears 
and slew men as they came. The fight be- 
came simply a death struggle, with the ad- 
vantage of position upon one side and of 
numbers on the other. And Ab and Boarface 
were each seeking the other. 

So the struggle lasted for a long half hour, 
and when it ended there were dead and dying 
men upon the barrier, while the waters of the 
creek were reddened by the blood of the slain 
assailants. The assault now ebbed a little. 
Neither Ab nor Hilltop had been injured in 
the struggle. As the invaders pressed close 
Ab had noted the whish of an arrow now and 
then and the hurt to one pressing him closely. 



326 THE STORY OF AB 

and old Hilltop had heard the wild cries of a 
woman who hovered in his rear and hurled 
stones in the faces of those who strove to 
reach him. And now there came a lull. 

Boarface had recognized the futility of scal- 
ing, under such conditions, a steep so well de- 
fended and had thought of a better way to 
gain his end and crush Ab and his people. 
He had heard the story of Ab's first advent 
into the valley when, chased by the wolves, 
he leaped through the flame, and there came 
an inspiration to him! What one man had 
done others could do, and, with picked war- 
riors of his band, he made a swift detour, 
while, at the same time, the main body rushed 
desperately upon the barrier again. 

What had been good fighting before was 
better now. Lives were lost, and soon all 
arrows were spent and all spears thrown, and 
then came but the dull clashing of stone 
axes. Ab raged up and down, and, ever in 
the front, faced the oncoming foe and slew as 
could slay the strong and utterly desperate. 
More than once his Hfe was but a toy of 
chance as men sprang toward him, two or 
three together, but ever at such moment there 
sang an arrow by his head and one of his 



THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS 327 

assailants, pierced in throat or body, fell back 
blindly, hampering his companions, whose 
heads Ab's great ax was seeking fiercely. 
And, all the time, nearer the northern end of 
the barrier, old Hilltop fought serenely and 
dreadfully. There were many dead men in 
the pools of the creek between the barrier and 
the entrance to the valley. And about Ab 
ever sang the arrows from the rocky shelf. 

There w^as wild clamor, the clash of weapons 
and the shouting of battle-crazed men but 
there was not enough to drown the sound of a 
scream which rose piercingly above the din. 
Ab recognized the voice of Lightfoot and 
raised his eyes to see the woman, regardless 
of her own safety, standing upright and point- 
ing up the valley. He knew that something 
meaning life and death was happening and 
that he must go. Hq leaped backward and 
a huge Western cave man sprang to his place, 
to serve as best he could. 

Not a moment too soon had that shrill cry 
reached the ears of the fighting man. He ran 
backward, shouting to a score of his people to 
follow him as he ran, and in an instant recog- 
nized that he had been outwitted, at least for 
the moment, by the vengeful Boarface. As 



328 THE STORY OF AB 

he rushed to the east toward the wall of 
flame he saw a dark form pass through its 
crest in a flying leap. There were others he 
knew would follow. His own feat of long ago 
was being repeated by Boarface and his chosen 
group of best men! 

It was not Boarface who leaped and it was 
hard for a gallant youth of the Eastern cave 
men that he had strength and daring and had 
dashed ahead in the assault, for he had 
scarcely touched the ground when there sank 
deeply into his head a stone ax, impelled by 
the strongest arm of all that region, and he 
was no more among things alive. Ab had 
reached the fire wall with the speed of a great 
runner while, close behind him, came his eager 
following. 

The forces could see each other clearly 
enough now, and those on the outside outnum- 
bered those on the inside again by two to one. 
But those leaping the flames could not alight 
poised ready for a blow, and there were adroit 
and vengeful axmen awaiting them. There 
was a momentary pause for planning among 
the assailants, and then it was that Ab fumed 
over his own lack of foresight. His chosen 
band who were with him now were all bow- 



THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS 329 

men, and about the shoulder and chest of each 
was still slung his weapon, but there were no 
more arrows. Each quiverful had been shot 
away early in the fight and then had come 
the spear and ax play. But what a chance 
for arrows now, with that threatening band 
preparing for the rush and leap together, and, 
while out of reach of spear or ax, within easy 
reach of the singing little shafts! Oh, for the 
shafts now, those slender barbed things which 
were hurled in his new way! And, even as 
he thus raged, there came a feeble shout from 
down the valley behind him and he saw some- 
thing very good! 

Limping, with effort, but resolutely forward, 
was a bent old man, bearing encircled within 
his long arms a burden which Ab himself could 
not have carried for any distance without 
stress and labored breathing. The lean old 
Mok's arms were locked about a monster sheaf 
of straight flint-headed arrows, a sheaf greater 
in size than ever man had looked upon before. 
The crippled veteran had not been idle in his 
cave. He had worked upon the store of shafts 
and flintheads he had accumulated, and here 
was the result in a great emergency! 

The old man cast his sheaf upon the ground 



330 THE STORY OF AB 

and then sank down, somewhat totteringly, 
beside it. There needed no shout of command 
from Ab to tell those about him what to do. 
There was one combined yell of sudden exul- 
tation, a rush together for the shafts and a 
swift filling of empty quivers. It was but the 
work of a moment or two. Then something 
promptly happened. The great fellows, though 
acting without orders, shot almost "all to- 
gether," as the later English archers did, and 
so close just across the flame wall was the 
opposing group that the meanest archer in all 
the lot could scarcely fail to reach a living 
target, and stronger arms drew back those 
arrows than were the arms of those who drew 
bowstring in the battles of mediaeval history. 
With the first deadly flight came a scattering 
outside and men lay tossing upon the ground 
in their death agony. There was no cessation 
to the shot, though Boarface sought fiercely 
to rally his followers, until all had fled beyond 
the range of the bowmen. Upon the ground 
were so many dead that the numbers of the 
two for.ces were now more nearly equal. But 
Boarface had brave followers. They ranged 
themselves together at a safe distance and 



THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS 33 1 

then started for the flame wall with a rush, to 
leap it all together. 

There was another arrow-flight as the on- 
slaught came, and more men went down, but 
the charge could not be stopped. Over the 
low flame-crests shot a great mass of bodies, 
there to meet that which was not good for 
them. The struggle was swift and deadly, but. 
the forces were almost evenly matched now 
and the insiders had the advantage. Boarface 
and Ab met face to face in the melee and each 
leaped toward the other with a yell. There 
was to be a fight which must be excellent, for 
two strong leaders were meeting and there 
were many lives at stake. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

OLD hilltop's last STRUGGLE. 

Even as he leaped the flames, the desperate 
Boarface hurled at Ab a fragment of stone, 
which was a thing to be wisely dodged, and 
the invader was fairly on his feet and in posi- 
tion to face his adversary as the axes came 
together. More active, more powerful, it may 
be, and certainly more intelligent, was Ab than 
Boarface, but the leader of the assailants had 
been a raider from early youth and knew how 
to take advantage. In those fierce days 
to attain the death of an enemy, in any way, 
was the practical end sought in a conflict. 
Close behind Boarface had leaped a youth to 
whom the leader had given his commands be- 
fore the onrush and who, as he found his feet 
upon the valley's sward, sought, not an adver- 
sary face to face, but circled about the two 
champions, seeking only to get behind the 
leaping Ab while Boarface occupied his sole 
attention. The young man bore a great stone- 
headed club, a dreadful weapon in such hands 

332 



OLD HILLTOP'S LAST STRUGGLE 333 

as his. The men struck furiously and flakes 
spun from the heavy axes, but Boarface was 
being slowly driven back when there descended 
upon Ab's shoulder a blow which swerved him 
and would certainly have felled a man with 
less heaped brawn to meet the impact. At 
the same instant Boarface made a fierce 
downward stroke and Ab leaped aside without 
parrying or returning it, for his arm was 
numbed. Another such blow from the new 
assailant and his life was lost, yet he dare not 
turn. That would be his death. And now 
Boarface rushed in again and as the axes came 
together called to his henchman to strike more 
surely. 

And just then, just as it seemed to Ab the 
end was near, he heard behind him the sharp 
twang of the bowstring which had sounded so 
sweetly at the valley's, other end and, with a 
groan, there pitched down upon the sward 
beside him a writhing man whose legs drew 
back and forth in agony and who had been 
pierced by an arrow shot fiercely and closely 
from behind and driven in between his shoulder 
blades. He knew what it must mean. The 
arm which had drawn that arrow to its head 
was that of a slight, strong creature who was 



334 THE STORY OF AB 

not a man. Lightfoot, wild with love and 
anxiety, had shot past Old Mok just as he laid 
down his bundle of arrows, and, when she saw 
her husband's peril, had leaped forward with 
arrow upon string and slain his latest assailant 
in the nick of time. Now, with arrow notched 
again and a face ablaze with murderous help- 
fulness, she hovered near, intent only upon 
sending a second shaft into the breast of 
Boarface. 

But there was no need. Unhampered now, 
Ab rushed in upon his enemy and rained such 
blows as only a giant could have parried. 
Boarface fought desperately, but it was only 
man to man, and he was not the equal of the 
maddened one before him. His ax flew from 
his hand as his wrist was broken by Ab's de- 
scending weapon, and the next moment he 
fell limply and hardly moved, for a second 
blow had sunk the stone weapon so deeply in 
his head that the haft was hidden in his long 
hair. 

It was all over in a moment now. As Ab 
turned with a shout of triumph there was a 
swift end to the little battle. There were 
brief encounters here and there, but the East- 
ern men were leaderless and less well-equipped 



OLD HILLTOP'S LAST STRUGGLE 335 

than their foes, and though they fought as 
desperately as cornered wolves, there was no 
hope for them. Three escaped. They fled 
wildly toward the flame and leaped over and 
through its flickering yellow crest and there 
was no pursuit. It was not a time for besieged 
men to be seeking useless vengeance. There 
came wild yells from the lower end of the 
valley where the greater fight was on. With 
a cry Ab gathered his men together and the 
victorious band ran toward the barrier again, 
there with overwhelming force to end the strug- 
gle. Ever, in later years, did Ab regret that 
his fight with Boarface had not ended sooner. 
To save an old hero he had come too late. 

Boarface, when taking with him a strong 
band to the upper end of the valley, had still 
left a supposably overwhelming force to fight 
its way up and over' the barrier. Ab away 
from the scene of struggle, old Hilltop assumed 
command. He was a fit man for such death- 
facing steadfastness as was here required. 

Never had Ab been able to persuade Light- 
foot's father to use or even try the new weapon, 
the bow and arrow. He had no tender feeling 
toward modern innovations. He had a clear 
eye and strong arm, and the ax and spear 



33^ THE STORY OF AB 

were good enough for him! He recognized 
Ab's great qualities, but there were some things 
that even a well-regarded son-in-law could not 
impose upon any elder family male. Among 
these was this twanging bow with its light shaft, 
better fitted for a child's plaything than for 
real work among men. As for him, give him 
a heavy spear, with the blade well set in thongs, 
or a heavy ax, with the head well clinched in 
the sinew-bound wooden haft. There was 
rarely miss or failure to the spear-thrust or the 
ax-stroke. And now, in proof of the sound- 
ness of his old-fashioned belief, he staked rug- 
gedly his life. There were few spears left. 
There were only axes on either side. And 
there stood old Hilltop upon the barrier, while 
beside him and all across stood men as brave 
if not quite as sturdy or as famous. 

In the rear of the line, noisy, sometimes 
fierce and sometimes weeping, were the women, 
whose skill was only a little less than that of 
the males and who were even more ruthless in 
all feeling toward the enemy. And still easily 
chief among these, conspicuous by her noisy 
and uncaring demeanor of mingled alarm and 
vengefulness, was the raging Moonface. She 
rushed up close beside her husband's defend- 



OLD HILLTOPS LAST STRUGGLE 337 

ing group and still hurled stones and hurled 
them most effectively. They went as if from 
a catapult, and more than one bone or head 
was broken that day by those missiles from 
the arm of this squat savage wife and mother. 
But the men below were outnumbering and 
brave, and now, maddened by different emo- 
tions, the lust of conquest, the murderous 
anger over slain companions and, underlying 
all, the thought of ownership of this fair and 
warm and safe place of home, were resolute in 
their attack. They had faith in their leader, 
Boarface, and expected confidently every mo- 
ment an onslaught to aid them from above. 
And so they came up the watery slope, one 
pressing blood-thirstily behind the other with 
an earnestness none but men as strong and 
well equipped and as brave or braver could 
hope to withstand. The closing struggle was 
desperate. 

Hilltop stood to the front, between two 
rocks some few yards apart, over which bub- 
bled the shallow creek, and between which 
was the main upward entrance to the valley. 
He stood upon a rock almost as flat as if 
some expert engineer of ages later had planed 
its surface and then adjusted it to a level, 

22 



338 THE STORY OF AB 

leaving the shallow waters tumbling all about 
it. The rock out-jutted somewhat on the 
slope and there must necessarily be some little 
climb to face the aged defender. On either 
side was a stretch of down-running, gradually- 
sloping waterfall, full of great boulders, em- 
barrassing any straight rush of a group 
together, but, between and upward, sprang 
swart men, and facing them on either side of 
old Hilltop beyond the rocks were the re- 
mainder of the mass of cave men upon whom 
he depended for making good the defense of 
the whole barrier. Beside him, in the center 
of the battle, were the two creatures in the 
world upon whom he could most depend, his 
stalwart and splendid sons, Strong-Arm and 
Branch. With them, as gallant if not as strong 
as his great brother, stood braced the eager 
Bark. They were ready, these young men, 
but, as it chanced, there could be, at the be- 
ginning of the strong clamber of the foe, only 
one man to first meet them. All were behind 
this man at the front, for the flat rock came 
to something like a point. He stood there, 
hairy and bare except for the skin about his 
hips, and with only an ax in his hand, but 
this did not matter so much as it might have 



OLD HILLTOP'S LAST STRUGGLE 339 

done, for only axes were borne by the up- 
clambering assailants. The throwing of an 
ax was a little matter to the sharp-eyed and 
flexile-muscled cave men. Who could not 
dodge an ax was better out of the way and 
out of the world. A meeting such as this im- 
pending must be a matter only of close per- 
sonal encounter and fencing with arm and 
wooden handle and flint-head of edge and 
weight. 

There was a clash of stone together, and, 
one after another, strong creatures with cloven 
skulls toppled backward, to fall into the bab- 
bling creek, their blood helping to change its 
coloring. Leaping from side to side across 
his rock, along each edge of which the water 
rushed, old Hilltop met the mass of enemies, 
while those who passed were brained by his 
great sons or by those behind. But the forces 
were unequal and the plane in front was not 
steep enough nor the water deep enough to 
prevent something like an organized on- 
slaught. With fearful regularity, uplifted and 
thrown aside occasionally in defense to avoid 
a stroke, the ax of Hilltop fell and there was 
more and more fine fighting and fine dying. 
On either side were men doing scarcely less 



340 THE STORY OF AB 

stark work. Hilltop's two sons, on either side 
of him now, as the assailants, crowded by 
those behind, pressed closer, fully justified 
their parentage by what they did, and Bark 
was like a young tiger. But the onslaught 
was too strong. There were too many against 
too few. There were loud cries, a sudden 
impulse and, though axes rose and fell and 
more men tumbled backward into the water, 
the rock was swept upon and won and the old 
man stood alone amid his foes, his sons hav- 
ing been carried backward by the pressure of 
the mass. There was sullen battling on the 
upper level, but there was no fray so red as 
that where Hilltop, old as he was, swung his 
awful ax among the close crowding throng of 
enemies about him. Four fell with skulls 
cleanly split before a giant of the invaders got 
behind the gray defender of the pass. Then 
an ax came crashing down and old Hilltop 
pitched forward, dead before he fell into the 
cool waters of the pool below. 

There was a yell of exultation from the 
upward-climbing Eastern cave men as they 
saw the most dangerous of their immediate 
enemies go down, but, before the echoes had 
come back, the sound was lost in that which 



OLD HILLTOP'S LAST STRUGGLE 34^ 

came from the height above them. It was 
loud and threatening, but not the yell of their 
own kind. 

There had come sweeping down the valley 
the victors in the fight at the Eastern end. Ab, 
with the lust of battle fully upon him as he 
heard the wild shriek of Moonface, who had 
seen her husband fall, was a creature as hun- 
gry for blood as any beast of all the forest, and 
his followers were scarce less terrible. Swift 
and dreadful was the encounter which followed, 
but the issue was not doubtful for a moment. 
The barrier's living defenders became as wild 
themselves as were these conquering allies. 
The fight became a massacre. Flying hope- 
lessly up the valley, the remnant, only some 
twenty, of the Eastern cave men ran into the 
vacant big cave for refuge and there, barri- 
caded, could keep the'ir pursuers at bay for 
the time at least. 

There was no immediate attack made upon 
the remnant of the assailants who had thus 
sought refuge. They were safely imprisoned,' 
and about the cave's entrance there lay down 
to eat and rest a body of vengeful men of twice 
their number. The struggle was over, and 



342 THE STORY OF AB 

won, but there was little happiness in the Fire 
Valley which had been so well defended. 

Moonface, wildly fighting, had seen her hus- 
band's death. With the rush of Ab's return- 
ing force which changed the tide of battle she 
had been swept away, shrieking and seeking 
to force herself toward the rock whereon old 
Hilltop had so well demeaned himself. Now 
there emerged from one side a woman who 
spoke to none but who clambered down the 
rough waterway and waded into the little pool 
below the rock and stooped and lifted some- 
thing from the water. It was the body of the 
brave old hunter of the hills. With her arms 
clutched about it the woman began the clam- 
ber upward again, shaking her head dumbly, 
when rude warriors, touched somehow, despite 
the coarse texture of their being, came wading 
in to assist her with the ghastly burden. She 
emerged with it upon the level and laid it 
gently down upon the grass, but still uttered 
no word until her children gathered and the 
weeping Lightfoot came to her and put her 
arms about her, and then from the uncouth 
creature's eyes came a flood of tears and a gasp 
which broke the tension, and the death wail 
sounded through the valley. The poor, af- 



OLD HILLTOP'S LAST STRUGGLE 343 

fectionate animal was a little nearer herself 
again. 

There were dead men lying beside the flames 
at the Eastern end of the valley, and these 
were brought by the men and tossed carelessly 
into the pools below where lay so many others 
of the slain. There were storm clouds gather- 
ing and all the valley people knew what must 
happen soon. The storm clouds burst; the 
little creek, transformed suddenly into a tor- 
rent by the fall of water from the heights 
above, swept the dead men away together to 
the river and so toward the sea. Of all the 
invading force there remained alive only the 
three who had re-leaped the flames and those 
imprisoned in the cave. 

There was council that night between Ab 
and his friends and, as the easiest way of dis- 
posing of the prisoners in the cave, it was pro- 
posed to block the entrance and allow the 
miserable losers in battle to there starve at 
their leisure. But the thoughtful Old Mok 
took Ab aside and said: 

' 'Why not let them live and work for us.-* 
They will do as you say. This was the place 
they wanted. They can stay and make us 
stronger." 



344 THE STORY OF AB 

And Ab saw the reason of all this and the 
hungry, imprisoned men were given the alterna- 
tive of death or obedient companionship. 
They did not hesitate long. The warmth of 
the valley and its other advantages were what 
they had come for and they had no narrow 
views outside the food and fuel question. The 
valley was good. They accepted Ab's au- 
thority and came out and fed and, with their 
wives and children, who were sent for, be- 
came of the valley people. 

This place of refuge and home and fortress 
was acquiring an importance. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

OUR VERY GREAT GRANDFATHER. 

And the years passed. One still afternoon 
in autumn a gray, hairy man, a man approach- 
ing old age, but without weakness of arm or 
stiffness of joint, as yet, sat on the height 
overlooking the village. He looked in tranquil 
comfort, now down into the little valley, and 
now across it into the wood beyond, where 
the sun was approaching the treetops. He 
had come to the hill with the mere instinct of 
the old hunter seeking to be completely out of 
doors, but he had brought work with him and 
was engaged, when not looking thoughtfully 
far away, in finishing a huge bow, the spring of 
which he occasionally tested. Every motion 
showed the retained possession of tremendous 
strength as well as the knowledge of its use to 
most advantage. A very hale old man was 
Ab, the great hunter and head of the people of 
the Fire Valley. 

A few yards away from Ab, leaning against 
the trunk of a beech, stood Lightfoot, her 

345 



34^ THE STORY OF AB 

quick glance roving from place to place and as 
keen, seemingly, as ever. These two were still 
most content when together, and it was well 
for each that they had in the same degree 
withstood what the years bring. The woman 
had, perhaps, changed less than the man. 
Her hair was still dark and her step had not 
grown heavy. She had changed in face and 
expression rather than in form. There had 
grown in her eyes and about her mouth the 
indefinable lines and tokens, pathetic and 
sweet, of care, of sorrow, of suffering and of 
quiet gladness, in short, of motherhood. 

As twilight came on the woods rang with 
the shouts and laughter of a party of young 
men who were coming home from some forest 
trip. Ab, looking down the valley, over the 
flashing flame, into the forest hills, in whose 
deep shade lay Little Mok, old Hilltop and 
Ab's mother, could see the lusty youths in the 
village, running, leaping, wrestling and throw- 
ing spears, axes and stones in competition. A 
strange oppression came upon him and he 
thought of Oak lying in the ground alone on 
the hillside, miles away. Ab felt, even now, 
the strong, helpful arm of his friend around 
him, just as it was in the evening journey from 



OUR VERY GREAT GRANDFATHER 347 

the Feast of the Mammoth homeward, when 
he had been rescued from almost certain death 
by Oak. A lump rose in the throat of the 
man of many battles and many trials. He 
shook himself, as if to shake off the memory 
that plagued him. Oak came not often to 
trouble Ab's peace now, and when he came it 
was always at night. Morning never found 
him near the Fire Village. 

The young hunters, rioting Hke the young 
men in the valley, were passing now. Ab 
looked upon them thoughtfully. He felt 
dimly a desire to speak to them, to tell them 
something about the hurts they might avoid, 
and how hard it was to have a great, heavy 
load on one's chest at times — all one's life — 
but the cave man was, as to the emotions, in- 
articulate. Ab could no more have spoken 
his half defined feelings than the tree could 
cry out at the blow of the ax. 

The woman left the beech tree and ap- 
proached the man and touched his arm. His 
eyes turned upon her kindly and after she had 
seated herself beside him, there was laughing 
talk, for Lightfoot was declaring her desperate 
condition of hunger and demanding that he 
return to the valley with her. She examined 



^. 




\0' 



348 THE STORY OF AB , ^ 

his bow critically and had an opinion to ex- 
press, for so fine a shot as she might surely 
talk a little about so manful a thing as the 
V making of the weapon. And as the sun sank "'~'' ' 
^>^ lower and the valley fell into shadow, the two 
T ^ \ s descended together, a pair who, after all, had 
^ >v reason to be glad that they had lived, 
\v ^ ^= ^^^ ^^^ children these two left were bold 
"^ N^ §, and strong and dominant by nature, and 
^' ^^W^j maintained the family leadership as the village 
u Sv \' gi"ew. (with later generations came trouble 

_i*^««3 I \racf anrl HirA fr\ fVi*^ ■n<=ir»r»lA r\^ fViA larirl Knf 1 + 




f %^ I vast and dire to the people of the land, but it 
was not the part of this proud and seasoned 
and well-weaponed group to flee like wild 
beasts when came drifting to the Westward 
the first feeble vanguard of the Aryan over- 
flow. The vanguard was overthrown; its men 
made serfs and its women mothers. ; ^ Other 
cave men in other regions might escape to the 
Northward as the wave increased, there to 
'^ ^ become frost-bitten Lapps or the "Skrallings" 
Ti*^ A of the Norsemen, the Eskimo of to-day, but 
V not so the people of the great Fire Valley or 
their stern and sturdy vassals for half a hun- 
r.^ ^ -^ dred miles about. No child's play was it for 
\ those of another and still rude civilization to 
^^ meet them in their fastnesses, and the end of 



ti ^ 



>^ 



T 



^ 



OUR VERY GREAT GRANDFATHER 349 

the struggle— for this region at least— was, 
not a conquest, but a blending, a blending 
good for each of the two forces. 

And as the face of Nature changed with the 
ages, as the later glacial cold wavered and 
fluctuated and forced back and forth migra- 
tions of man and beast, still the first-formed 
group retained coherence, retained it be- 
yond great natural cataclysms, retained it to 
historic ages, to wield long the smoothed stone 
weapons, and, afterward, the bronze axes, and 
to diverge in many branches of contentious 
defenders and invaders, to become Iberian 
and Gaul and Celt and Saxon, to fight family 
against family, and to commingle again in 
these later times,,AAA. ^-»-Wt^ OuvU> V 4X"^.^'V 

Upon the beach the other day, watching ' 
the waves lap toward her, sat a woman, cul- 
tured, very beautiful and wise in woman's 
way and among the fairest and the best of all 
earth can produce. There are many such as 
she. Barely longer ago than the other day, 
as time is counted, a rugged man, gentle as 
resolute and noble, became the enshrined hero 
of a vast republic, when he struck from slave 
limbs the shackles of four million people. In 
an insular home across the sea, interested 



350 THE STORY OF AB N^;-^ 

still in the world's affairs, is an old man vigor- 
ous in his octogenarianism, a power, though 
out of power, a figure to be a monument in 
personal history, a great man. But a few 
years ago the whole world stood with bowed 
head while into the soil he loved was lowered 
the coffin of one who has bound the nations 
together in sympathy for Les Miserables of th^ 
earth. In a home on the continent broods 
watchfully a bald-headed giant in cavalry 
boots, one who has dictated arbitrarily, as 
premier, the policy of the empire he has 
largely made. The woman upon the sands, . 
the great liberator, the man wonderful even \ 
in old age, the heart-stirring writer, the man [ 
of giant personality physical and mental, have f 
had reason to boast alike a strain of the blood 1 
of Ab and Lightfoot. In the veins of each j 
has danced the transmitted product of the 
identical corpuscles which coursed in the veins 
of those two who first found a home in the 
Fire Valley. Strong was primitive man; 
adroit, patient and faithful was primitive 
woman; he, the strongest, she, the fairest and 
cleverest of the time, could protect their off- 
spring, breed and care for great children of 
similar powers and so insure a lasting race. 



OUR VERY GREAT GRANDFATHER 351 

Thus has the good blue blood come down. 
This is not romance, this is not fancy; this is 
but faithful history. 



THE END 



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THIS BOOK HAS BEEN PRINTED 
DURING AUGUST, 1897, BY THE 
BLAKELY PRINTING COMPANY, 
CHICAGO, FOR WAY & WILLIAMS. 



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